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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26983597">Now That We've Met</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlewatcher/pseuds/Turtlewatcher'>Turtlewatcher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Modern AU, POV Mikasa Ackerman, Romance, Sexual Content, arumika, with a side of Springles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:34:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>53,243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26983597</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlewatcher/pseuds/Turtlewatcher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Pictures. That’s where she had seen him. She had been expecting longer hair and glasses; she had been expecting, well, this guy who she had built up in her mind to be some kind of stuck up knowitall that Eren gave way too much credit to. The Armin in front of her, however, was not what she had expected. Not at all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mikasa Ackerman &amp; Sasha Blouse, Mikasa Ackerman/Armin Arlert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>190</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>187</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Geese</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The short silence that preceded the obnoxiously loud ringtone in her headphones was plenty long enough for annoyance to take root. </p>
<p>She would rather not answer that. </p>
<p>In fact, she would appreciate it greatly if Eren could ever, for once, respect her working hours. Her pencil found its way between her teeth, stabilized by her lips while she fished her phone from her hoodie pocket. One look at the screen confirmed her suspicion. It was tempting to simply hang up and she certainly would if she thought that would work. Instead, she found herself answering.</p>
<p>“What,” she grumbled around the pencil before bothering to pluck it from her mouth.</p>
<p>“Wow, Mikasa. Don’t sound too excited.”</p>
<p>“I’m working.”</p>
<p>A soft breeze played at pieces of hair that no clip or tie seemed capable of wrangling. Her subject matter, a gaggle of park geese, were waddling their way away. They honked and chattered amongst themselves, eagerly en route. She narrowed her eyes at their destination of scattered bread. Next to it, a toddler and his mother stood with faces of anticipation. Next to them? The <i>Please Don’t Feed the Wildlife</i> sign. The little boy’s expression was nearly cute enough for her to forgive the loss of inspiration.</p>
<p>“Is that a duck,” Eren asked, clearly amused.</p>
<p>“No. Geese.”</p>
<p>“See, you’re not even at work.”</p>
<p>“I’m still working,” she defended. This was her hill and she could die on it if she wanted to, even if Eren was a lost cause and would no doubt continue his habit of calling her at random times of day. </p>
<p>“Are you coming tonight?”</p>
<p>Oh, did he mean to his birthday get together? The one he had only reminded her of maybe five going on fifty times? That was not even worth an answer. She glared silently at the pond shoreline the geese <i>had</i> been enjoying pre-bread crumbs, hoping to magically convey her expression through silence. It didn’t work.</p>
<p>“Mikasa?” Eren said, oblivious to all the reasons this was frustrating.</p>
<p>“I’m still coming,” she said flatly before hanging up on him.</p>
<p>Her music picked up where it left off, but it was too late. The magical chord progression that had left her feeling spiritually connected before the phone call was now only noise to her ears. The pleasant breeze felt chilly and damn it could her hair stay out of her eyes for two seconds? She began the pack-up routine. Pencils were placed painstakingly back into their slots in their original tin and she took an inordinate amount of time straightening her small sketchbook on top of the larger of the two before sliding them both into her purse. Satchel? Thing. </p>
<p>This is about where Sasha would be calling her a neat freak. </p>
<p>Even though she had never made up her mind as to where she was actually packing up to, her feet plodded in one direction. They seemed to know better than she did that she was not going to stop by the outdoor cafe or set up shop in a calmer corner of the park. She was slipping into the sort of mood where there was only one place left to go. Her car loomed ahead, auspicious to nobody but herself. </p>
<p>The inside was hot in the exact right way. It was stifling, sweat-inducing and perfect for pushing away the invisible melancholy that was sinking into her skin. Pushing it somewhere she knew would come back to bite her, but until then it was being cooked away by a sunny warmth that was only possible to feel this time of year by getting into a car that had sat in an open parking lot for hours. Only once the windows were down did she bother untangling her bag from her body and subsequently from the shifter that the strap got caught around on its journey to the floor board.</p>
<p>She closed her eyes to better feel the breeze play with the stuffy car air against her skin. In one motion, her hand turned the engine over and she opened her eyes. Music flooded her once more and it was just as right as it had been fifteen minutes ago when it had accompanied her pencil and the geese. There was a buzz on her thigh and she turned over her phone. </p>
<p>Eren. At least it was just a text this time. Which, by all means, it could have been a simple text in the first place. The short message caused her to snort quietly, something that almost turned into a chuckle. </p>
<p><b>Eren:</b> armin will be there. be nice</p>
<p>Be nice. He said that as if she was not always nice. It wasn’t her fault the last friend he had enthusiastically introduced her to had hit on her. She had not been mean, but maybe telling Jean she would rather stay home than go for a drink with him was not exactly <i>nice.</i> </p>
<p>Besides, what did Eren care about her manners? She let Eren’s text go unanswered, not having any reply worth sending. At least she was finally going to meet the ‘Amazing Armin.’ Sometimes she wondered if Eren didn’t have a hard on for the guy, the way he talked about him. </p>
<p>It wasn’t that she didn’t like him. After all, she didn’t know him. That, however, did not mean that she trusted him. Eren’s ability to sense character was debatable in her mind and frankly if she had to hear one more time about how great this guy was, she might explode. </p>
<p>Jealousy may or may not be a factor in her emotions. She shoved that inkling of an idea right out the window before opening the car door and crossing the lawn at the sort of pace required to get away from a thought like that. Walking into the living room, she could see Connie was nursing a beer while Sasha chewed at a paint-splotched nail and fretted.</p>
<p>“This is, like, Rothko depressing, Sash. Should we be worried?” Connie moved his hands to his hips and leaned into her hellishly messy workstation before giving Sasha a genuine look of concern.</p>
<p>To which she snorted loudly. “I’m not going to kill myself, if that’s what you mean. And that is the last time I take you to a museum, Connie. I bet you don’t even remember any of the other artists.”</p>
<p>Mikasa came to stand next to him, curious to see the latest work in progress. Well, he might not know much about abstract impressionism, but Connie sort of had a point. It was a bit… dark. Sasha stormed out of their dining room that was hardly used for dining. It was more of a ‘three starving artists who can’t afford studio space’ room. Well, two, since Connie wasn’t a starving artist, just broke like them. Mikasa’s own work hardly required much space unless you counted her tendency to hoard pens, pencils, and markers. Still, the cubic footage her desk took up paled in comparison to Sasha’s easel and sprawl of canvases, all at various stages, but none quite complete.</p>
<p>“I’m trying to show range!” Sasha cried from the kitchen. </p>
<p>Mikasa eyed the dark work and then arched a brow at the stacks of color tilted against the wall.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should focus on being yourself,” she offered, loud enough for Sasha to hear.</p>
<p>Sasha let out a big sigh while she dragged her feet back to her easel. </p>
<p>“I know,” she drawled, “Ugh, this show is the best worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Mika, tell me what you’re up to lately. Give me inspiration. Paint my paintings for me.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know how much inspiration I’ll be,” Mikasa answered ruefully, “Unless you’re into geese commissions.”</p>
<p>Also, she couldn’t paint. So there was that. </p>
<p>“Mm, not quite.”</p>
<p>“Eren’s party is tonight, maybe you can get inspired there.”</p>
<p>Sasha scoffed and grabbed her cup of brushes. Mikasa followed her to the kitchen this time.</p>
<p>“I’m not going to get inspired,” Sasha huffed, “I’m going to get smashed. When should we get there?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. Late.”</p>
<p>“What, you don’t want to go?”</p>
<p>She shrugged but Sasha smirked, swirling her brushes meticulously through soapy water in her palm. Bubbles of gray reflected the palette of the day. For all her mess, Sasha always managed a tidy clean up job. Which was very good because otherwise Mikasa would have lost her mind by now. </p>
<p>“Eren said Armin is going to be there. So I guess I’ll meet him tonight.”</p>
<p>“Your arch enemy,” Sasha teased.</p>
<p>Had she really complained that much about him?</p>
<p>“I just think he’s going to be a jerk or something,” Mikasa defended stubbornly.</p>
<p>Sasha had a glint in her eyes as she pointed each brush and dried the handles. </p>
<p>“Hmm.” </p>
<p>Mikasa turned on her heels and retreated to her room. Sasha was no doubt about to say, again, how she was being weird. Her reprieve was short lived when a knock at her door signaled the imminent arrival of Sasha. Mikasa had once upon a time thought that wearing less clothes might make Sasha reconsider her habit of barging in. It had not. </p>
<p>“Do you walk into Connie’s room like this,” she asked. Sasha was already flicking through Mikasa’s closet with as much respect for her belongings as for her privacy. </p>
<p>“No, he doesn’t wear pants.”</p>
<p>“You walked in on me naked.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but it’s just you. Can I borrow this?”</p>
<p>Sasha held up a dress that she wore more than Mikasa did. </p>
<p>“Go ahead.”</p>
<p>“What’re you going to wear?”</p>
<p>Mikasa shrugged. It was Eren’s birthday, not the red carpet. Sasha was about to pick something for her anyway.</p>
<p>“You should wear this.”</p>
<p>Sure enough, an ensemble appeared on her bed. Without a second thought, Mikasa began changing into Sasha’s selection.</p><hr/>
<p>Before she knew it, they were climbing out of the backseat of some overly freshened sedan and getting carded at the door of an already obnoxiously loud club. </p>
<p>“I’ve gotta pee,” Sasha shouted over the noise of the crowd and music that had no right to be so loud so soon after sunset. Mikasa nodded and split off towards the bar, aiming for a spot that seemed less hectic than the rest.</p>
<p>It took far too long to get the honor of yelling her order to a bartender who was clearly over it. She could practically see his eyes rolling at the two orders of vodka cranberries. So what if they were basic? It was either going to be that or white wine, but judging on his response, he seemed like the type who would spit in it out of spite for having to uncork something.</p>
<p>They exchanged card for alcohol with no further communication and Mikasa was about to retreat when a hand tapped at her shoulder. She turned to find an oddly familiar looking person to her right. Who he might be was on the tip of her tongue, but escaped without warning at each new glance. Although, surely they had not met before? She would remember a face like that, wouldn’t she? </p>
<p>“Mikasa, right?”</p>
<p>He held a hand out. She reciprocated the gesture out of habit while her mind was buzzing with a whole host of new questions. How did he know her? Had they in fact met before? His handshake was firm but not too hard and now he was smiling in a way that had her feeling… nervous. Eyes that were almost too blue were fixed on her face. It had been a very long time since she had gotten a case of the butterflies, but here she was. Her cheeks were also warming, to her chagrin. From the corner of her eye she spied Eren. </p>
<p>“So, you’ve met Armin.”</p>
<p>Eren’s voice hit her square in the stomach. She nodded slowly, letting it sink in. Eren glanced between them as if to say something, but his attention was stolen abruptly by Jean yelling across the bar. </p>
<p> Pictures. That’s where she had seen him. She had been expecting longer hair and glasses; she had been expecting, well, this guy who she had built up in her mind to be some kind of stuck up knowitall that Eren gave way too much credit to. The Armin in front of her, however, was not what she had expected. Not at all. </p>
<p>“Um,” he mumbled shyly. There was a tug at her fingers. Oh.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she said, letting go of his hand. Never had she been more grateful for such terrible lighting as heat spread further across her cheeks. </p>
<p>“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Armin supplied. The sweet smile on his very cute mouth was adding exponentially to her anxiety. She had never felt so frozen before. Floch appeared abruptly to drag Eren away towards the table Jean had apparently staked out.</p>
<p>Mikasa was still staring at Armin. Until he cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Okay… Um. Nice to meet you.” </p>
<p>Just like that, he was slipping into the crowd, following Eren and Floch. Be nice, Eren had said. She wanted to be nice. More than nice. Instead, she had managed to probably look like a total asshole.</p>
<p><i>Maybe I am,</i> she thought as she chugged the first half of her drink. After all, who was the one who had held a grudge against a stranger all this time? Who was the one who had given them the silent treatment, even if that had been on accident? Even if Armin seemed kind and polite and damn, this was why Eren had told her to be nice, wasn’t it?</p>
<p>Cringe set in and tied a quick knot in her gut, only for it to receive a hard yank when her gaze met Armin’s once more. He glanced away, immersing himself into whatever Eren was saying now. She could go over and apologize, but she did no such thing. Suddenly, Sasha’s game plan of getting hammered for the evening sounded much more appealing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello and thank you for checking this fic out! </p>
<p>Currently updating every other week</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Second Impressions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa watched in disbelief. Eren was walking through the doors of the tiny gallery and straight towards the front desk. She suddenly wished for one of his out of the blue phone calls. </p>
<p>“What are you doing here, Eren?”</p>
<p>He stuck his hand into her workspace and gave her a long stare.</p>
<p>“Give me your phone.”</p>
<p>She had a bad feeling about where this was going. Why did she have to work so close to Eren’s apartment? She pushed back.</p>
<p>“Why would I do that?” </p>
<p>“I’m giving you Armin’s number.”</p>
<p>What on earth would he do that for?</p>
<p>“You could have texted it to me,” she pointed out.</p>
<p>“I want to see you do it.”</p>
<p>“Do <i>what?”</i> </p>
<p>“Apologize.”</p>
<p>“You can’t be serious.”</p>
<p>Even if she did feel a little guilty, it was just one botched introduction. Opening a channel of communication with Armin was not on her to-do list. She may have warmed up to the idea of him last night, but that was the new problem. He had made her feel… well, she was not sure what to call it. The rest of the evening had devolved into a hazy memory of watching him from across the table.</p>
<p>“He thinks you hate him. Did you do that glaring thing?”</p>
<p>“I don’t. I didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Tell him that.”</p>
<p>“You tell him,” she insisted. </p>
<p>Eren just motioned for her phone again. No way. This was ridiculous. Still, there was only one way to get Eren out of here without causing a scene. Also, he was aggravating her hangover headache.</p>
<p>“I’ll put it myself. Tell it to me.”</p>
<p>“Fine,” he conceded. </p>
<p>She glanced around, finger hovering on call. Whatever, it wasn’t like Armin was going to start texting her or anything. She looked right at Eren, hoping that Armin would see the odd number and refuse to pick up.</p>
<p>“Hello?”</p>
<p>No such luck.</p>
<p>“It’s Mikasa.”</p>
<p>He sounded neither confused nor annoyed, only exasperated, as he said, </p>
<p>“Eren didn’t.”</p>
<p>“He did,” she confirmed. Armin sighed.</p>
<p>“I told him not to.”</p>
<p>“It didn’t work.”</p>
<p>“Evidently.”</p>
<p>Eren raised an eyebrow and leaned in expectantly.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. This was so weird. Why did Eren have to be so… ugh. She wasn’t even sure which part she was apologizing for. </p>
<p>“Ohmygod,” came the soft reply in a huff. “You don’t - just, tell Eren I said ok, ok? He shouldn’t have…” Armin sighed again without finishing the thought. </p>
<p>“He says ok,” she repeated. Eren seemed unsatisfied, but stepped back with a nod. He was too much sometimes.</p>
<p>“He’s too much,” Armin said in resignation, as if reading her mind.</p>
<p>“Tell me about it.”</p>
<p>A small chuckle sounded through the line.</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess you grew up with him.”</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry he made you call me.”</p>
<p>Eren had wandered to the nearest piece of art, actually seeming to be looking at it. Having him out of ear shot felt a bit less strange.</p>
<p>“No, I’m sorry. I was rude yesterday,” she admitted for the first time out loud.</p>
<p>“I… thought maybe I had done something.”</p>
<p>He had. </p>
<p>“You didn’t.”</p>
<p>All he had done was be someone she wished she could be to Eren. Close, like a brother. She had known that, but she had also hoped he might be more dislikable. Wanted him to be. That would have made it a lot easier. Maybe she was the dislikable one. </p>
<p>“It’s just my face,” she tried to explain. </p>
<p>“Your face?”</p>
<p>“Eren says I glare.”</p>
<p>Armin’s laugh in her ear was light and breezy and she wanted more.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she repeated.</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine. Thanks for saying so, though. For calling.”</p>
<p>“It was Eren’s idea,” she reminded him.</p>
<p>“So, you didn’t want to?”</p>
<p>No. Yes. Um...</p>
<p>“Just kidding,” Armin teased at her long pause.</p>
<p>Mikasa caught movement from the owner’s office.</p>
<p>“I’ve got to go,” she said quickly.</p>
<p>“Ok. See you around.”</p>
<p>“See you,” she answered before hanging up and then processing what she had just said. Would she? See him around? </p>
<p>Eren had disappeared behind one of the large white walls. At least someone was actually looking at this exhibit. So few people even knew about the gallery much less visited it. She returned to her most recent doodle, but found her pencil was not moving. Her mind wandered to odd scenarios in which she might actually see Armin around. Meanwhile, Eren was meandering back to the desk. She took the opportunity to ask what she had been meaning to text him. Like a sane person who didn’t just show up to people’s jobs.</p>
<p>“Do you want to carpool tonight?”</p>
<p>Eren picked at a pamphlet.</p>
<p>“Sure. But you’ll have to ride with Armin, too.” He shot her a challenging expression. </p>
<p>“You invited him?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Then why the hell did you just make me call him if he was going to be there tonight? And why did you invite him?”</p>
<p>Eren shrugged and took the pamphlet that she highly doubted he was going to read.</p>
<p>“It’s good to clear the air. Still want to carpool?” He conveniently dodged her second question, but she didn’t even care at this point.</p>
<p>“Yes.” She was not about to back down. Not after all that. “Did you get a gift?”</p>
<p>Eren rolled his eyes dramatically. </p>
<p>“What do they need a gift for?”</p>
<p>“Because it’s their anniversary.”</p>
<p>“They have one every year.”</p>
<p>Stubborn ass. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Mikasa stood, using Eren as a buffer between herself and Armin. It made it easier not to watch him this way. She held her glass up with everyone else for the toast. Everyone, that is, except Zeke, who was sulking in a corner. </p>
<p>“He can’t even be happy for mom and dad?” Eren breathed into her ear. </p>
<p>“Would you be,” she asked. It sure must be a big blast watching the father who had left your mother celebrate his anniversary with his wife of thirty years. Zeke turned thirty this year, too. Fun.</p>
<p>“I’m happy,” Eren said, missing the point entirely. </p>
<p>“Yeah, but -”</p>
<p>“I’m going over there.”</p>
<p>“Eren,” she started, but it was too late. She shared a look with Armin as Eren crossed the room. God, it was going to be Christmas all over again. Armin sidled over to her.</p>
<p>“Is that Zeke?” He asked under his breath.</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“That’s not good, is it?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>His shoulder brushed hers, but she didn’t move away. Her mind flicked between his presence and Eren’s body language. There was small comfort in knowing Armin seemed to understand what kind of situation was unfolding. They both tensed at the sound of Eren’s voice rising.</p>
<p>She heard Armin say her name, but she was already crossing the room. Zeke and Eren barely spared her a glance. It was a battle she knew she had lost before the night had ever begun, but she felt she ought to try. For mom and dad.</p>
<p>“Eren, let’s go say congrats,” she tried. He did not budge. </p>
<p>“Sure. If Zeke wants to come with.”</p>
<p>“I’m here, aren’t I?”</p>
<p>Zeke was a calm person, but Mikasa heard the bite in his words. Understandable, if you asked her. But nobody had asked her and Eren was the one taking offense. Not her.</p>
<p>“Eren,” she tried again. Uselessly.</p>
<p>“Go by yourself.”</p>
<p>His tone made it perfectly clear where she stood. Fine. He was the one who was going to embarrass himself. She retreated with every intention to go give their parents her well wishes, but instead found herself fleeing to her childhood room. The only thing that kept her from flopping onto her bed completely was a small knock at the door behind her. She cracked it, not sure whether she was interested in letting whoever it was in.</p>
<p>“Are you ok?” Armin asked quietly through the controlled opening. </p>
<p>
  <i>Why is he… </i>
</p>
<p>The sounds of an argument picking up made it to their ears. Her dad’s voice was in the mix. God, this was getting old. Armin looked uncomfortably over his shoulder and then back to her. She stepped aside.</p>
<p>“Come in?”</p>
<p>“Please,” Armin said, nodding and slipping inside. </p>
<p>“He shouldn’t have invited you,” she said, taking a seat on her old bed. Why this room hadn’t been turned into something else made zero sense. The purple walls mocked her and her high school self’s sense of style. There were probably some old leather bracelets and plenty of black roaming around various drawers and in the closet. All the clothes she had intentionally left behind when she moved away for college. She looked up to see Armin’s face, shocked.</p>
<p>“W-what?”</p>
<p>No. She hadn’t meant it like that.</p>
<p>“If he was just going to pick a fight,” she explained, “he shouldn’t have invited you.”</p>
<p>Relief relaxed Armin’s soft features. </p>
<p>“Oh. Yeah.”</p>
<p>“You can sit down.”</p>
<p>She patted the bed only to borderline regret it when he accepted her offer. The ball forming in her stomach made her nervous; she didn’t like this feeling. Vulnerable. </p>
<p>“Do you,” they both said at the same time. Armin smiled.</p>
<p>“Sorry. You first.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to go back out there,” she asked. Not that she wanted to, but it felt like they ought to. It surprised her to see him shaking his head.</p>
<p>“It’s only going to get worse.”</p>
<p>He definitely knew Eren, then. They could now hear traces of the argument from behind the closed door. </p>
<p>“True. What were you going to say?”</p>
<p>Armin turned to her with a mischievous grin that took her off guard. There was a glint in his eyes.</p>
<p>“I was going to ask if you wanted to get out of here?”</p>
<p>He wanted to leave? With her? </p>
<p>She shouldn’t. No, she should stay. What about her parents or Eren? </p>
<p>“Yes,” she said, surprising herself. Yes, she did want to get out of there. Desperately. His grin broadened.</p>
<p>“Is it possible to get out unseen?”</p>
<p>She liked how he was thinking. In fact, she was thinking she was liking him more and more. To answer his question, though, there was no escape route by conventional means. She nodded at the window and waited for him to protest her suggested method. Instead, he stood and nodded back. </p>
<p>Only once outside and sliding the bedroom window shut did it occur to her how strange it was. Yesterday, she had been dreading meeting him. Today, she wanted nothing more than to blow off this party with Armin. </p>
<p>“We’re going to have to come back,” she said, regaining some amount of sense.</p>
<p>“Eventually,” he agreed with a smile. </p>
<p>And she laughed. He laughed. They were laughing, giggling, like children discovering a new game. As their fit subdued, she caught his gaze and smiled back. </p>
<p>“What now, Armin?” It was nice… saying his name.</p>
<p>“I'm kind of starving.” </p>
<p>“There's a place near here that’s good.”</p>
<p>So they set out, picking their way around side shrubs between the house and the neighbor. They were adults and there was no reason at all they should not have been able to walk out the front door. Except that she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be asked to stay or to look after Eren. Could she say no? Sure. The thing is, she was tired of being asked at all. </p>
<p>Besides, when was the last time she had done anything like this?</p>
<p>“What kind of food is it,” Armin asked as they slid into his car.</p>
<p>“Burgers. Sasha and I go all the time.”</p>
<p>The car was already moving. She watched the house fall away. If they had stayed a few more minutes, they might have seen someone storm out of the front door. As it was, they weren’t staying and Armin was looking at her all over again.</p>
<p>“I like burgers.”</p>
<p>The remainder of the short distance consisted only of Mikasa issuing directions, but the quiet gaps between weren’t awkward like in the bedroom. This was the least alone she had ever felt after Eren stirred up some family bullshit. She knew he cared, she just wished it could come with a less conviction; less pride. </p>
<p>Grease and french fries could already be smelled from the sidewalk while they made their way to the door. Mikasa held it open and waited for Armin to try and protest.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he chirped instead. She might’ve had more time to ponder why she kept expecting him to rub her the wrong way while he continued to do quite the opposite, but the sound of her best friend shouting her name caught her attention. Mikasa swiveled to find Sasha and Connie at a booth, waving wildly at them. </p>
<p>“Well, well, well,” Sasha said, giving her a look to let her know she could expect a conversation later. Sasha was so going to give her shit for this.</p>
<p>“You remember Armin,” she said, ignoring Sasha’s quirked eyebrow.</p>
<p>“I don’t," Connie inserted, sticking his hand out, "Connie." Armin clasped it.</p>
<p>“Armin.”</p>
<p>“He’s Eren’s friend,” Sasha explained.</p>
<p>“So where’s Eren, then?”</p>
<p>A fair question from Connie.</p>
<p>“Throwing a fit and ruining our parent’s anniversary dinner,” Mikasa answered. Something about those words deflated her spirit and made way for the pricking of guilt. </p>
<p>“Ah, rescuing Armin, then?”</p>
<p>She shook her head at Sasha. More like Armin rescued her. Left to her own devices, she would have returned to the shit show, but Armin jumped in before she could say anything about that.</p>
<p>“Definitely,” he said.</p>
<p>“I don’t know how you’re related, Mika. Fries?” Sasha pushed the basket their way.</p>
<p>“Technically, we’re not.”</p>
<p>“You’re not?” </p>
<p>They all turned at Armin’s question. Eren really hadn’t told him?</p>
<p>“I’m adopted.”</p>
<p>He studied her face and she let him. Call it morbid curiosity. What was he looking for? </p>
<p>“Oh. I didn’t know,” was all he said, but Mikasa watched the gears still turning. They might have stayed like that, staring, but a waitress bustled up for their order. Armin seemed reluctant to turn away, but turn he did. </p>
<p>Her own order was delayed, however, by the sudden familiar buzz at her hip. She didn’t have to look to know who it was.</p>
<p>“Mom,” she answered. Armin and Sasha both sent concerned looks, but he was the one to once again surprise her as he asked the waitress for two and to-go. </p>
<p>“Mikasa,” came her mom’s voice, strained, “Where are you?”</p>
<p>“Getting food. With Armin.”</p>
<p>“Eren… He walked out.”</p>
<p>No surprise there.</p>
<p>“He’s probably at the park.”</p>
<p>So predictable. She was sure Carla knew that by now, but then again, she was not really asking where he was, was she? </p>
<p>“We’ll go get him,” Mikasa finished, “It’ll be fine.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Mikasa. I’m sorry things got cut short.”</p>
<p>“No, I’m sorry. Happy anniversary.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, sweetheart.”</p>
<p>“Ok. Bye, mom.”</p>
<p>“I guess we’re making a pick up,” Armin said so dryly she thought she might laugh again. He was already accepting two containers in a bag from the waitress. They made their retreat, waving quick goodbye’s and reluctantly returning to the chilly evening.</p>
<p>“Is it always like this,” Armin asked.</p>
<p>“No,” she said, “You just have terrible timing.”</p>
<p>It was not meant as a joke, but the way he was laughing all of the sudden gave a silver lining to the night. </p>
<p>“I guess we should go get him, huh?”</p>
<p>She nodded and held her hand out for the food. “Here, give me that.” </p>
<p>His nod and smile were replaced by a flash of fear as his foot slipped off the curb. She caught him before he could fall, steadying him by the arm.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” he mumbled with a glance away, letting her relieve him of the take out bag when she finally did let go. She didn’t answer, only slumped into the car, not looking forward to the next leg of the journey. Why couldn’t this part have lasted longer?</p>
<p>“Hey,” Armin said, breaking the beginnings of that train of thought, “Your mom didn’t ask about how we got out?”</p>
<p>“Hm? No. Probably too busy trying to smooth everything over.”</p>
<p>“Huh. Well… It was fun. I don’t think I’ve ever climbed out a window.”</p>
<p>“Never?” She rolled her head to face him, still leaning into the headrest. Armin shook his head. </p>
<p>“Me neither,” she admitted quietly as he pulled out of the parking lot.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. dot com</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was her versus the closet; a one fall match that had begun half an hour ago and she had precious few minutes left to pin an opponent. A voice behind her made her slightly jump.</p><p>“I have never once seen you take this much time picking an outfit.”</p><p>“So I guess knocking is totally off the table,” she asked Sasha, finally plucking out a trusty old sweater that she had worn to a multitude of these things. When in doubt, familiarity.</p><p>“Do you have a date or something,” Sasha asked, ignoring her question. </p><p>“What, at ten in the morning? No, an interview.”</p><p>“Mm. Publisher?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Nice. Well, good luck.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p><i>I’ll need it,</i> she thought as she waved Sasha goodbye. If she could only get a little more work, she could leave the gallery desk job, pay her bills, and still be able to afford food. Even Sasha had managed to quit her part-time at the cafe by now and still make ends meet. To be fair, she had gotten a bit lucky with that client whose friends were one, equally wealthy, and two, in competition to prove which of themselves were the most cultured. So, if Mikasa could just find a circle of well-off socialites who were in a passive-aggressive race to prove how much they support local illustrators, she would be set.</p><p>Maybe she should have gone into fine art after all.</p>
<hr/><p>“We noticed you did not provide a website,” said the old, balding man. </p><p>Why was it always old men? And why were they so obsessed with websites? Her portfolio sat, painstakingly curated, on a desk that was comically large for a publishing office so small. </p><p>“I don’t have a website,” she answered in as polite a tone she could stand. Everyone wanted a goddamn website. What was wrong with paper? Whatever they were going to publish was going to end up on <i>paper</i>. </p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>She knew that tone. That swivel. </p><p>
  <i>Don’t get out of the chair.</i>
</p><p>He stood up and she stood up and shit, not again. </p><p>“It was lovely meeting you, Mikayla,” he said as they shook hands.</p><p>“Mikasa.”</p><p>“Apologies. Well, we’ll give you a call, ok?”</p><p>She clutched all eight and a half by eleven inches of her portfolio and gave him no more than a nod before stepping past him and heading for the elevator. What a joke. He had spent nearly half an hour telling her about their work and now she was running late for lunch. The least he could have done was remember her name. </p><p>On the bright side, the restaurant Eren had texted to her was only a few minutes away. It was also proof that he did in fact know how to text. Which clearly was not stopping him from calling that very moment.</p><p>“I’m walking in right now,” she answered, hanging up now that she could see him looking bored at a small table towards the back. It was strange that they still did this nearly every week, but she was glad all the same that he had not outgrown her completely. </p><p>“How was your interview,” he asked the moment her butt hit the chair.</p><p>“Total crap.”</p><p>“That sucks.”</p><p>“Entirely. Everybody wants to see a website. They’re obsessed.”</p><p>Eren handed her a menu, face complacent.</p><p>“So make a website.”</p><p>“That would require I know how or have any desire to.”</p><p>“Ask Armin.”</p><p>Sure. Armin. Of course it would be. Who else, except the person that she had been trying to push from her mind for the past week and a half?  Unsuccessfully.</p><p>“What, he makes websites?”</p><p>“It’s kind of his job, so yeah, you could say that.”</p><p>She scoffed and reached for the pitcher of water and a glass.</p><p>“I can’t afford to hire anyone to make it.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t accept your money anyway,” Eren said, taking the pitcher next.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“He just…” Eren paused, searching. “He just wouldn’t,” he restated. </p><p>He was dodging, but Mikasa knew better than to pry by now. “You should ask him, though. He likes side projects.”</p><p>Did he? </p><p>“So… where does he work?”</p><p>Eren narrowed his eyes at her. </p><p>“You’ve never been interested in Armin before.”</p><p>She shrugged. He didn’t not have a point. </p><p>“He seems interesting,” she admitted, but Eren wasn’t buying it.</p><p>“Ask him yourself, then. You have his number now.”</p><p>Well, maybe she would. It wouldn’t be so odd, would it? Not half as odd as sneaking out her old window with him, at any rate. </p><p>“Are you texting him right now?” Eren asked in surprise to see her pulling out her phone.</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p><b>Mikasa:</b> Eren says you know about websites</p><p>A waiter swooped by to collect their order and their menus. Her phone lit up on the table.</p><p><b>Armin:</b> He would be correct. </p><p>“Are you serious right now?” Eren exclaimed, snatching her phone before she could think to block him. “Eren says you know about websites? What kind of a text is that?”</p><p>She yanked it back, but he just pulled out his own and started typing.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“Asking for you. You need one, don’t you? And you’re never going to ask.”</p><p>Her phone buzzed in her hand.</p><p><b>Armin:</b> You need help with one?</p><p>“What did you tell him?” she demanded to know.</p><p>“That you needed help.”</p><p>She huffed and wondered exactly what else was in his message. </p><p>“I shouldn’t even have to need a website.”</p><p>“But you do, so you should get one.”</p><p>As much as she hated to admit it, Eren was right about that. </p><p><b>Mikasa:</b> For my portfolio</p><p><b>Armin:</b> Want to come over later?</p><p>Oh. </p><p>“What?” Eren poked her arm. “What’s that look on your face for?”</p><p>“Nothing,” she lied.</p><p><b>Mikasa:</b> Today?</p><p><b>Armin:</b> Sure</p><p>“Are you going to eat or what?”</p><p>“Yes, chill.”</p><p>Mikasa slid her phone into her purse where it could no longer tempt her and redirected her attention to the salad in front of her. The rest of lunch was, thankfully, uneventful and void of questions about Armin. Her mind, however, was not. Was she really going to go to his house tonight? Apartment? If she was being honest, she could afford to pay him something small, but would he actually refuse? And why? </p><p>“Here, I got it today,” Eren said, pulling out his wallet. In light of current circumstances, she let him this time.</p><p>“Thank you,” she said.</p><p>“It’s no problem. I’ve got a job.”</p><p>He didn’t have to rub it in… Besides, technically, she had anywhere between two to four jobs at once in a given week. One of which she needed to get back to. A job that on the whole drive back to, all she could think about was where she might be headed afterwards. She parked the car and found one last message between her and the evening.</p><p><b>Armin:</b> 6?</p><p><b>Mikasa:</b> Ok</p><p>From the moment she sat to the moment she began packing up her notebook and pencils from the gallery welcome desk, time fluctuated. Her mind wandered between the usual and reminiscing about their adventure of anniversary evening. Specifically, one moment. They had just pulled up to the park that she and Eren had spent countless afternoons at as children. Exactly as she had predicted, he was there. That wasn’t the part she remembered most, though. Armin had given her this look, as if he understood. Maybe he did.</p><p><i>Maybe he’ll be hungry, too,</i> she thought as she locked the old storefront door and strolled across the street. There was time. She hoped he liked deli sandwiches.</p><p>On the road, her music was so loud, she could feel the bass in her chest, but it didn’t work to calm her. Nor did speeding needlessly to his place. Only the climb up the stairs managed to clear her mind slightly, although now she was wishing she had pushed this back and gone to the gym first. Until he actually opened the door, that is. It would not have helped, she realized. </p><p>“Hey! Um, come in.”</p><p>Armin smiled and stepped aside and if she didn’t know any better, she would think he was nervous. She held up the bag from the deli.</p><p>“I brought sandwiches. If you’re hungry.”</p><p>“Oh. Ok, sure. Thank you. You didn’t have to,” he said, but took the bag.</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>She was too busy looking around to say much else. He was gone, disappeared behind a makeshift wall of, wait, was that moving? Mikasa approached slowly, her portfolio still cradled to one side. The array of glass boxes filled an industrial strength shelving unit. She could see Armin through one of them and hear as he took down two plates and glasses. </p><p>“You have a tarantula?”</p><p>“Two!” He claimed proudly, turning to see her through the panes. “This is Joe.”</p><p>“You have two tarantulas and you named one of them Joe?”</p><p>“Yes. Why, you don’t like them?”</p><p>She crouched to get a better view, but could still barely see the creature named Joe. Only enough to know what he was. The rest of the collection, however, she could not say.</p><p>“No, it’s… they’re cool,” she said, still distracted by everything else. “You’ve got a whole zoo in here.”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>Mikasa arched her brow at him, still through the glass. He followed her up as she straightened her legs and looked into the next tank.</p><p>“You wouldn’t call this a zoo? What’s his name?” She pointed to the lizard between them.</p><p><i> “Her</i> name is Suzie.”</p><p>Did they really all have names like that? Then again, there were a lot of tanks here, so maybe it was easier to keep it simple.</p><p>“Sorry. Her.”</p><p>Mikasa stared, mesmerized by her eyes. </p><p>“You want to hold her?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You can hold her. If you want to.”</p><p>She looked back at Armin to find his eyes shining and his face eager.</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>He lit up entirely now, flicking the door open from his side immediately. </p><p>“Really? Come to this side, then. And wash your hands. You know, Eren says they’re weird. He doesn’t even like coming over here.”</p><p>“He’s not a big reptile fan,” she said, making her way carefully around the shelf-wall, noting what definitely looked like a snake. Nope, this would not be Eren’s cup of tea.</p><p>“I noticed.”</p><p>As soon as her hands were dry, Suzie was being lowered into them like a reptilian baby. Armin’s fingers manipulated hers into what she assumed was the preferable placement. Mikasa was so transfixed with the surprisingly expressive tiny face that it took her a whole minute to realize that Armin’s hands were still touching hers. Before she could do or even think anything, though, Suzie began a bit of a crawl up her arm.</p><p>“I don’t think so,” Armin said as if talking to an old friend. He lifted her away and back to her large, glass home. The tank door clicked softly and he returned to the sink.</p><p>“What was she doing,” Mikasa wondered out loud, joining him.</p><p>“Oh nothing, just trying to explore.”</p><p>“I didn’t mind.”</p><p>That only made Armin smile wider, surprising her even more that he was changing the subject all of the sudden and vacating the kitchen with their food.</p><p>“We can sit over here. You said the website is for your portfolio? I’m sorry, I don’t have a real table, just the coffee table.”</p><p>“That’s ok.” She lowered herself to the couch and traded her portfolio for one of the plates. “We don’t have one either.”</p><p>He picked it up and began thumbing through the pages before asking, “Why not.”</p><p>“The dining room is a makeshift studio.”</p><p>“Oh,” he glanced up, “that’s cool. Is this really your work?”</p><p>She nodded, mouth too full to speak.</p><p>“It’s incredible.”</p><p>Mikasa chewed faster, swallowing as quickly as possible.</p><p>“I wouldn’t call it incredible,” she managed to get in just before he could add anything else.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>Armin fixed her with a challenging gaze she wouldn’t have expected from him.</p><p>“I- I don’t know.”</p><p>He hummed and tucked his legs beneath him before continuing. Each page got looked over and studied. When was the last time someone had really actually looked at her portfolio besides herself? </p><p>“What’s the website for?”</p><p>“To get more work.”</p><p>“You’re going to sell prints?”</p><p>“No, I just need the digital portfolio. People keep asking me about it. Potential employers, specifically.”</p><p>“Really, you’re not going to sell these? Why not?”</p><p>He sure did like that question. This time she had an answer.</p><p>“I doubt they would sell.”</p><p>Now he pinned her with a look even harder than the last.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s true.”</p><p>Just what was she supposed to say to that? Nothing, apparently, because he was already talking again.</p><p>“I’ll do the website, if,” he held one finger up, “you agree to try selling your work on there.”</p><p>What kind of a crazy ass deal was that? What did he care? Then again, where was she going to get another person to do her website? </p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>He smiled.</p><p>“Ok?”</p><p>“Ok,” she confirmed, “The only thing is, I can’t pay you much.”</p><p>Before her sentence was even finished, though, he was waving his hand and shaking his head.</p><p>“No, no, don’t worry about that.”</p><p>That made Eren right about more than one thing. She watched Armin as he restudied one particular page.</p><p>“I can bring more sandwiches?”</p><p>Armin opened his mouth, seeming about to protest, but promptly closed it. Then opened it again.</p><p>“Ok. Deal.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Crush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ymir’s hands fell hard on Armin’s shoulders. He was so used to it by now that he just kept typing.</p><p>“So, are you going to tell me why you’ve been so weird today?” She threw herself into her chair with enough force to propel her a foot away. Unfortunately, she rolled back towards him with ease. “Is it a date? Please tell me it’s not another one of our coworkers. I can’t take another office drama.”</p><p>He shut off his monitors and sent her a dirty look. He got it, loud and clear: don’t date coworkers. He hardly needed Ymir to remind him of that, thank you. Armin grabbed the plastic bag from beneath the desk.</p><p>“Gross,” Ymir whined. “Can’t you leave them in your car or something? Better yet, buy them after work.”</p><p>“I don’t have time,” he rebutted, not bothering to explain.</p><p>“Well,” she glanced at the bag in his hands, “I truly look forward to the day those little fuckers escape. Can you imagine Hitch’s face?”</p><p>Ymir mimed a scream and Armin couldn’t help but chuckle. Although, the thought of it actually happening was basically horrific. He could picture it, suddenly. A tiny, buggy revolt that would result in him sitting down with HR to discuss the liability issues regarding bringing live crickets to your place of work. Now that he thought about it, maybe he really should stop buying them during his lunch break.</p><p>“I can imagine,” he mumbled. Ymir hummed and smiled to herself.</p><p>“You know what? I’m kinda rooting for them now. Vive la cricket!”</p><p>Ok, he was definitely never bringing them into the office again.</p><p>“I’m leaving before you get any ideas,” he said, walking away faster than was necessary. It was too bad for Ymir’s revolutionaries that they were going to be eaten later. </p><p>A fresh interruption sprang up in the form of a phone call. Of course, it was none other than.</p><p>“Eren,” he said, already making his way down the stairs. </p><p>“Hey, what’s up.”</p><p>“Not much. Why?”</p><p>“Want to grab dinner?”</p><p>He would, except... </p><p>“I can’t, Mikasa is coming over tonight for the website.”</p><p>Eren’s pause made Armin anxious. </p><p>“You’re not going to try and make her hold one of your weird pets are you?”</p><p>Armin nearly sighed with relief. Not that Eren ought to mind them spending time together. Still, it was hard to tell with Eren sometimes. On the other hand, the vivid memory of her holding Suzie came to mind. Then he glanced down at the bag of unsuspecting crickets in his hands. It wasn’t weird.</p><p>Was it? </p><p>“Of course not.” It was only half a lie. He hadn’t <i>forced</i> her to hold anything.</p><p>“Good. Ok, I guess I’ll talk to you later then. Bye.”</p><p>“Bye.”</p><p>Was it weird? Eren would not exactly be the first one to think so. Armin cut across the street and into the park, grateful once again for the pleasant commute. Even when it was raining it was nice enough under an umbrella. Today, however, was wonderfully sunny.</p><p>Like every other day that week, he clung to the pathways in full view of the sun and took the two turns necessary to put him on the best one. It was as bright and warm as the rest, but best of all was that it climbed down to the waterfront. </p><p>The bayou was winding and walking its path added a handful of minutes to his walk, but that was all part of what he enjoyed about it. It took willpower not to stop on this particularly nice day and watch a family of ducks drifting by leisurely with the current. He didn’t want to be late. </p><p>For that matter, what time was it?</p><p>He stared disbelieving at his phone for two seconds and then immediately doubled back to the stairs he had just passed. His hair bounced as he ascended at a quick pace. Where had the time gone? There was no time to finish the usual route around the bend, he was going to have to cut across the park and stop letting himself get so distracted. </p><p>It had been ages since he had actually walked through the park and not along the water's edge. He was gaining on a small pond that he had forgotten was there and slowed in an effort to take it in without blowing his time completely. Armin still couldn’t resist taking a moment to fully pause at the edge and look across. Thirty seconds wouldn’t hurt.</p><p>Pleasant surprise struck him at the sight of a familiar face. Mikasa sat in the grass with a large pad in her lap and a bag at her side. Her lips were pursed in her focus, but she looked peaceful all the same. He felt his lips turning up before he could even think to smile. Suddenly she lifted her head and fixed him with a stare. </p><p>And she smiled back. It was even brighter in the daylight. The last one she had shown him had been nearly too dark to see, sandwiched between two walls, with light only coming from the Yeager’s window. This one was different. It was meant for him this time and maybe he was definitely overthinking it, but he couldn’t chase away the warmth that spread through him in response. </p><p>There was still a grin stuck to his face as he picked his way around the pond. Seeing him approach, she began moving to put her things away, but he closed in and shook his head.</p><p>“No, don’t stop.”</p><p>She looked up at him. Her face had already returned to its passive state but she stopped reaching into her bag. He sat down before she could get up. It wasn’t like they were in a rush or anything. He certainly was not.</p><p>“Really, don’t let me interrupt. What are you working on?”</p><p>She partially blocked his view of her work, almost as if by instinct, before pointing with her pencil to a couple of geese not far away. He tried again to get a look at the page.</p><p>“Will you show me?”</p><p>Mikasa hesitated but then slowly lowered her arm.</p><p>“It’s nothing, really. Just a commission, for my dad’s friend. What’re you doing here?”</p><p>It was not nothing to him. The work was a lot different than he had seen in her portfolio, more realistic, but skilled nonetheless. He resisted the urge to touch it and instead lifted his face back to hers.</p><p>“I was walking home from work. This is incredible.”</p><p>At that she froze and he wondered how he could so quickly be second guessing giving a compliment. Her hand dove into her bag again and she set to work packing up. This time he did not stop her, only observed curiously at the routine on display. She was methodical and neat and suddenly the bag flapped closed as she stood up. He got the distinct feeling that this was a well rehearsed sequence. Her hand drifted into view and he accepted it. She pulled him up as if it were nothing. </p><p>“You’re strong,” he commented, a faint embarrassment tempting him to feel bad about his own physicality. Mikasa, meanwhile, only gave him a shrug and began walking in the direction of his apartments.</p><p>She was not going to make it easy, that much was becoming apparent. Armin caught up to her. His determination was far from withering. They could be friends, good friends even. He was sure of it. </p><p>“Where did you park?”</p><p>“At your apartments. I thought I would work before coming over.”</p><p>“Do you come here often?”</p><p>Had it only been a matter of crossing through the middle and he could have seen her here a long time ago? She sent him a funny look. </p><p>“Only lately. For this job. What’s that?”</p><p>Mikasa nodded at the bag in his hands. Now he was the one to hesitate.</p><p>“Oh, um. Crickets.”</p><p>He waited for a reaction of ‘gross’ or even simply a frown of displeasure. Neither came.</p><p>“For Suzie?”</p><p>That she remembered her name made him happier than he wanted to admit. A grin crept up that he couldn’t keep down.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Will you show me?”</p><p><i>What</i>. He was speechless. She tried again.</p><p>“You’re going to feed them to her, aren’t you? Can I see?”</p><p><i>Just wait until Eren hears about this</i>, he thought, grinning.</p><p>“Yeah, of course.”</p><p>She nodded and pulled out her phone. They were to the street now, only a few minutes away.</p><p>“Do you like Thai food?” </p><p>Right. Her end of the deal. He was tempted to argue, but he got the feeling she wouldn’t appreciate it.</p><p>“Yeah. Thanks.”</p><p>He stole careful glances while they walked. She could be anywhere she wanted on a Friday night, but she was going to spend it with him. Normally he did not keep any on hand, but he had bought three bottles of wine in a panic the night before when he had realized this, hoping she might like one of them or wine at all. Texting Eren to ask what drink to select when having his sister over to his apartment had felt a bit too odd at the time. As to why it felt that way, well, he looked at her once more and had his answer. Why was she stopping?</p><p>“This is it, isn’t it?”</p><p>Indeed it was. He gave her an apologetic smile.</p><p>“Sorry. I get lost in my head sometimes.”</p><p>“You don’t have to apologize.”</p><p>“Oh. Sorry.”</p><p>She raised an eyebrow and he internally reprimanded himself while they slipped into the gate. Walking with her was easy; effortless. Perhaps it was because Eren had talked so much about her for so long, but Armin felt like he had known her for much longer than a few weeks. It was a comfortable feeling. He swung the apartment door open and couldn’t help but hum contentedly at how warm it was. </p><p>Finally, he could peel off his jacket. Eren always argued that Armin kept things too hot, but that was easy to say when you were a human heater. Armin felt like Suzie, always relying on outside heat sources to keep from a chill. Honestly, did every business in the world have to keep their interiors set to frozen? Still, he probably should ask Mikasa if she was all right.</p><p>“Is it too hot?”</p><p>“It won’t be without this.”</p><p>She shrugged out of the enviously comfortable looking cardigan. He definitely had a weak spot for a cozy fabric. His mind was pulled from that though. This was the first time he had witnessed her sans sleeves and beneath her fabric ones lay another kind. </p><p>“Did you draw those?”</p><p>Armin reached out to touch her arm, but withdrew at the last second. He didn’t want to be weird. She looked down and made a face like she had forgotten the ink that wrapped her upper arm. </p><p>“This one? No. Some of the other ones, yes.”</p><p>He did not even bother trying to hide his surprise.</p><p>“Other ones?” </p><p>Mikasa nodded with no further information, so he asked.</p><p>“Can I see?”</p><p>She showed no sign of bashfulness when she said, face completely straight, “I would have to take my shirt off for that.”</p><p>A blush rose to his cheeks instantly. </p><p>“No, I. Sorry. Uh, that’s ok.”</p><p>When the corners of her mouth ticked up slightly, it finally hit him that she might be messing with him.</p><p>“I was joking. I mean, it’s true, but I’m not going to take my shirt off.” </p><p>Then Mikasa walked away as if she had not just said that and went to peer into Suzie’s tank. As if she had not. Just. Said. That. He tried to will away the heat from his face, only for it to make itself present in his stomach.</p><p><i>Stop that,</i> he chided in his head. The more he tried to stop, though, the more difficult it was to not imagine her shirtless. He fled into the kitchen and hunted down his cricket enclosure, forcing himself into distraction. It was for his own good.</p><p>“I like her. Are you going to feed her now?”</p><p>Mikasa’s tone was matter of fact and she was looking expectantly at him from the other side of the glass. Excitement bubbled up in his chest. </p><p>“You do? Eren told me not to make you hold anything weird.”</p><p>Her eyebrows both shot up. </p><p>“Did he?” </p><p>This time Armin heard the teasing undertone beneath the even way she spoke. He caught the smirk she sported. Oh, God. Where was a hole to crawl in to when you needed it the most? Somehow, the only thing he could think of to make it less strange was to pick up the crickets and the nearest pair of tweezers and ask awkwardly,</p><p>“Do you still want to watch?”</p><p>His inner judge was busy making note of all the ways he was probably being weird, but Mikasa just brightened and nodded. He plucked out a cricket that was already looking like they had limited time in this world. </p><p>
  <i>This one’s for Ymir.</i>
</p><p>It was an easy catch for Suzie. Boring, even, he would be willing to bet, but Mikasa’s eyes widened and her face lit up. Armin bit his lip and watched her watching. Then watched her straighten her shoulders, step around the shelf, and say,</p><p>“Huh.” </p><p>A knock at the door sounded. So he still watched. She went to accept the food without a word. It was seamless and that made him admire her even more. Floch had tried to warn him at Eren’s birthday that she could be ‘cold,’ but he found it to be wholly inaccurate, particularly now. Guarded, yes. He had seen that in a heartbeat. Not cold.</p><p>He had not really been offended either that she had hardly talked to him. Disappointed, but not offended. All the same, he truly had been glad for her call. It was unfortunate that Eren had been so <i>him</i> about it, but it had opened a chance to get to know her better and for that he was happy. She appeared back in front of him and held up the delivery bag.</p><p>“Hungry?”</p><p>“Very. Do you want any wine?”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>“Long day?”</p><p>She set the takeout on his counter.</p><p>“Very.”</p><p>He motioned to the options on his counter he had spent far too much time picking out the night before.</p><p>“Red.”</p><p>“Red,” he echoed, pulling a corkscrew from a drawer, “The glasses -” </p><p>He didn’t have to finish the thought. As soon as he pointed to the correct cabinet, she was already taking them down. Seamless. Soon enough it was him and her and more Thai food than they could possibly eat all gathered up on his all purpose coffee table. He might have had room for a table other than in front of his couch, but then where would all the tanks go? Armin crossed his legs and took an oversized bite of noodles. Mikasa smiled at him from over the rim of her glass. </p><p>“Ok, so what first?”</p><p>“This food.”</p><p>She reached for her plate and pointed the fork right at him.</p><p>“And then what?”</p><p>“And then the fun part. Which will probably be the boring part. Are you sure you want to stay and watch me type on my computer?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“Ok. I’m, uh, I’m just going to be right back.”</p><p>A typical guest might have said ok. Maybe even a simple nod. Not Mikasa.</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>He pointed at his eyes and disappeared into the bathroom. They felt so dry after a day at the computer and he just couldn’t take another evening of it. Sometimes he wondered why he still bothered with these. Oh, right. To look good for his office photo. Armin took one contact out. Annie had said he looked nice. He took the other out. Ymir had patronized him, asking if he had worn contacts just for ‘picture day.’ So, it was half from flattery and half in spite. He slid on the much more comfortable glasses. Mikasa was so going to think he was a nerd. </p><p>“Ok,” he warned upon exiting, “don't laugh.”</p><p>“Why would I laugh?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“You look more like your pictures now.”</p><p>Pictures?</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Before we met, I had only seen you in pictures with Eren. Your hair was longer, too.”</p><p>Armin touched his hair. </p><p>“Oh. Yeah. It was. So was yours.”</p><p>“Do you ever think about growing it back out?”</p><p>He shrugged.</p><p>“Sometimes. You?”</p><p>She shook her head and took a long drink from her glass. He folded himself back onto the couch and took one of his own but had to resist pulling a face. Red wine was not quite his drink of choice. Although he was still a fan because by the time he actually got to opening his computer, Mikasa was on glass number two and growing noticeably chattier. In other words, she was talking in multiple sentences to him. </p><p>When she wasn’t, she was quietly watching the movie she had put on in the name of entertainment. What could he say, coding wasn’t glamorous. It might have been the most boring Friday night to somebody else, but Armin was indescribably content. He was also starting to lose track of things and glanced at the culprit: an empty second glass of wine. Well, he always was a lightweight. Mikasa looked over when he closed his laptop and stood up.</p><p>“Is everything ok?”</p><p>“Yeah. Just -” A yawn caught him mid sentence. She gave a soft smile and started picking up dishes.</p><p>“I should get going.”</p><p>But he didn’t want her to go.</p><p>“No, it’s ok. We can finish the movie.”</p><p>But she continued picking up.</p><p>“You should rest. Thank you again for helping me with this. You really don’t have to.”</p><p>He stood to help her before she could clean his whole apartment. </p><p>“I know I don’t. Thanks again for dinner.”</p><p>“It’s the least I could do. Do you… want to do this next week?”</p><p>Again. She wanted to spend a whole other evening night on his couch. Armin clutched the take out containers until they squeaked in protest. His voice came out at half volume.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Ok. Great. Friday?”</p><p>She moved quickly and was already at his door and slipping back into her cardigan.</p><p>“Friday,” he confirmed, rushing to put down the leftovers and join her before she could disappear. “Drive safe.”</p><p>“See you.”</p><p>Just like that he was all by himself again. She was gone and his back was against the door. He sighed, eyes closed, and pushed his hand into his hair. How was he ever supposed to explain this to Eren? </p><p>
  <i>Yes, Eren, you see, I think I might have a crush on your sister.</i>
</p><p>Armin groaned out loud. Nope. There was no explaining that. Besides, why mention it? For all he knew, it was a passing infatuation and nothing more. </p><p>Right?</p><p>Right.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Cardigan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“No.”</p>
<p>“But, Mika, it’s for my special day!”</p>
<p>To her credit, Sasha gave the best puppy dog eyes Mikasa had seen to date. It still wasn’t going to work.</p>
<p>“I am not wearing that.”</p>
<p>Sasha gave up on the pout but was certainly not letting go.</p>
<p>“I thought you said you invited Armin.”</p>
<p>Mikasa looked suspiciously over the rack.</p>
<p>“I did.”</p>
<p>“Ok, so don’t you want to show off a little?”</p>
<p>Sasha gave a shimmy and waved the ludicrously low-cut top in emphasis.</p>
<p>“I’m not wearing that. Why would I want to show off?”</p>
<p>The snort that came from Sasha drew a confused look from both Mikasa and a nearby sales associate.</p>
<p>“Why would -” Sasha snorted again, followed by a short laugh. “All right, have it your way.”</p>
<p>She squeezed the top back onto the overstuffed rod. Just what did she mean by that? Mikasa continued flicking quietly at her own spot while Sasha practically skipped to the changing room. Her energy had been through the roof all day at the prospect of what was, for all intents and purposes, her local debut. Mikasa also noted that Sasha had selected a significantly more modest piece to try on for herself.</p>
<p>Yes, Mikasa might be playing slightly stupid. She knew exactly what Sasha was insinuating, she simply did not agree. She also did not actually know what she had meant by ‘have it your way.’ It wasn’t like that with Armin. Even if it <em>was</em>, why should she choose something only to look good for someone else? Besides, if she were going to show off…</p>
<p>She drew out a shirt that was equally low-cut as the one Sasha had dug up, but not in the front. The memory of Armin’s reaction to her tattoos was fresh in her mind. Sasha burst back out of the fitting room only to scoff and point at the garment in Mikasa’s hand.</p>
<p>“You would wear that and not the other one?”</p>
<p>Mikasa slammed it back on the rack harder than she meant to, shaking the assembly. She had plenty of decent clothes at home anyway, almost all of which were more decent than that.</p>
<p>“I was just looking.”</p>
<p>“Uh huh. What do you think?”</p>
<p>Sasha motioned to the dress in all its bold printed glory.</p>
<p>“I think it looks exactly like what you would wear to your show,” Mikasa said.</p>
<p>“Is that a complement?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Then thank you. Are you getting anything?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>Sasha sent her a suggestive look.</p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>Mikasa ignored her raised eyebrows and the mischief etched all over her face.</p>
<p>“I’m sure. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>“If you insist. Are we still going for drinks after the show? God, I can’t believe it’s really happening.”</p>
<p>“Sure. We can do whatever you want to do, it’s your night to celebrate.”</p>
<p>And celebrate Sasha would. From the giddy jump she did as Mikasa zipped her new dress up to the squeal she let out upon setting foot into the gallery, Sasha was positively brimming with excitement. Mikasa smiled fondly to see her needlessly fret over each piece as if they had not spent all morning setting up with as much care could be mustered between them. Luckily, Connie was soon there. He always managed to charge Sasha’s battery while simultaneously calming her, an effect which Mikasa still did not truly understand the intricate workings of.</p>
<p>By the time the gallery was full of patrons, Sasha was the center of praise by her circle of socialite benefactors. Mikasa might have been tempted to be jealous if she were not so truly pleased to see Sasha’s success. For now, though, she might like to hunt down a cup of Chardonnay.</p>
<p>“Mikasa,” came a voice she would know anywhere. She turned to Eren. He had brought company. Armin stood there, looking very sharp she might add, and gave her a warm smile. She returned with one of her own.</p>
<p>“Are you all right,” Eren asked. She looked back at him and wiped her expression clean.</p>
<p>“Of course I am.”</p>
<p>“Connie said a group is going out after the show.”</p>
<p>“Yeah we are. Are you coming?”</p>
<p>Mikasa watched Eren share a look with Armin, some sort of silent communication.</p>
<p>“I’m down,” Eren said, “but Armin - ”</p>
<p>But Armin interrupted.</p>
<p>“I’ll go. It sounds fun.”</p>
<p>Mikasa’s pulse jumped a little as she locked eyes with Armin. Sasha’s words from earlier rang in her head. It wasn’t like that… was it? Connie’s arm fell around her shoulder. At one glimpse of her sideways glare, he retracted his arm. Although, no dirty looks could truly hamper his easy-going spirit.</p>
<p>“Free wine, anybody?”</p>
<p>They followed Connie right to the refreshments table, but Eren is the one who began pouring drinks. His habit of getting caught in his head had not precluded him from learning about his friends and Mikasa continued to be impressed at how caring he could be given the right environment. As caring as you could be, that is, when pouring wine.</p>
<p>Eren had clearly committed their tastes to memory over the years. A chardonnay for Mikasa, her favorite at art openings. She loved a good red, but only in low stakes environments. He plucked up a sweet blend for Armin, leading Mikasa to believe Armin might not be particular to wines. Then why had he had three bottles the other night? Last, but not least, Eren dove into a cooler for two beers and handed one to Connie.</p>
<p>“So what’s the plan, Connie? I hear we’re going out after this.”</p>
<p>“You heard right! Sasha’s choice, of course. Good to see you again by the way, Armin.”</p>
<p>Armin nodded politely before taking a sip of wine. Eren leaned in and lowered his voice from any nearby ears.</p>
<p>“Hey, you got my stuff today?”</p>
<p>Connie had no such volume sensitivity.</p>
<p>“Aw, yeah, in my car. Want to go put it in yours?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>Mikasa rolled her eyes, drawing a short laugh from Armin. He stepped closer to her.</p>
<p>“I guess you’re not into that?”</p>
<p>“Not really. I also live with the guy, so if I was, I’d just go down the hall.”</p>
<p>“Oh. He lives with you and Sasha?”</p>
<p>Huh, she could have sworn she had mentioned that before.</p>
<p>“Yep.”</p>
<p>“Like, um, with one of you?”</p>
<p>A laugh rose up and out of her. Her fingers flew over her mouth, but the giggles fought to stay.</p>
<p>“No,” she said between them, “Definitely not.”</p>
<p>Armin glanced away, but something of a wide grin had bloomed on his face.</p>
<p>“Do you want to go look?” She motioned behind her to the exhibit.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Does this mean I’m going to get personal insights?”</p>
<p>“Oh, well, Sasha is kind of busy right now.”</p>
<p>Armin’s hand brushed her sleeve in a way that should never have put such a nervous buzz in her.</p>
<p>“I meant from you. Where’d you get this? It’s so soft.”</p>
<p>He touched her arm this time with an innocent look. Damn him.</p>
<p>“I… I don’t remember.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Thank you sooo much!”</p>
<p>Sasha leaned into Mikasa and yelled a whole lot louder than she needed to considering they were right beside each other and the bar was not even that loud. This was not surprising, though. It would have been normal any other Saturday night and this was <em>not</em> any other night. Sasha was officially the first of them to have art showcased somewhere proper, real, and no that senior year “gallery” did not count.</p>
<p>What really had Mikasa both curious and amused was the way Armin leaned in to her other side. He was not growing in volume like everyone else, all of whom were basically drunk except for her, but he was still undeniably and equally inebriated.</p>
<p>“You’re nice,” he said softly.</p>
<p>“You’re drunk,” she mumbled back. “And how are you so cold?”</p>
<p>His bare arm pressed to hers, cool to the touch. The patio was breezy but not that bad. Or so she thought. Mikasa dove down to dig her cardigan from her purse. This was purely being friendly she told herself. There was definitely no anticipation at the prospect of him accepting her offer. None.</p>
<p>“Here.”</p>
<p>He fingered the fabric with a reverence above and beyond what any piece of casual wear warranted.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to take - What if you get cold?”</p>
<p>Then she would be cold. She really wouldn’t though.</p>
<p>“I’m fine, take it.”</p>
<p>Her goal truly had been to see him not about to break out shivering, but actually seeing him pull it around his shoulders and hum contentedly was doing new things to her. Mikasa had never been particularly into men in women’s clothing, but seeing Armin in a piece of <em>her</em> clothing… Her chest constricted and, seriously, she had only wanted to warm him up. That was it.</p>
<p>He bunched up a wad of the soft knit wear in each hand and closed his eyes with a sigh.</p>
<p>“It’s so soft.”</p>
<p>With that, he tucked himself into her shoulder. Who was this and what had he done with the Armin she had come to know over the past few weeks? Every bit of it only served to make her feel warmer, but she tried to fight the fuzzy feelings. He was drunk and that was all. Her imagination was getting the better of her.</p>
<p>She allowed herself to finally be pulled from the very confusing bubble on her left side and resurface into the table conversation. Thankfully, Sasha was too distracted to notice and tease her regarding this new development. Eren, however, was watching quietly. She would have shrugged, but that might risk disturbing Armin.</p>
<p>Eren looked between. He was doing a good job of keeping his expression blank, but she had known him long enough to see a click of recognition in his eyes. Of what, she could not say, only that it happened during his lingering glance at his best friend. Who was currently falling asleep with her as a pillow. Who smelled really incredible, actually, and she made a mental note to sit closer to him next time she went over. Well, next time she went to basically hang out with him while <em>he<em> worked on her site.</em></em></p>
<p>“We should get him home,” Eren said. He sounded as much in need of getting home as Armin looked. No way was she letting either of them drive.</p>
<p>“I’ll take you.”</p>
<p>Sasha petted her arm, although it was not even close to how thrilling the other side of contact was.</p>
<p>“Nooo, are you leaving? But, my celebration.” Sasha was nearly slurring her words, but Mikasa knew Connie would take care of her. They at least had Uber on their phones.</p>
<p>“It’s late.” It was. “Look at Armin, he’s passing out.”</p>
<p>Mikasa almost immediately regretted pointing it out to her. Sasha got all gooey eyed and made a funny chuckle of a sound.</p>
<p>“You didn’t even need that shirt!”</p>
<p>“Let me out,” Mikasa commanded and strong-armed her way from the bench seat. She pulled the sleepy Armin along with her and thanked the universe that he was too out of it to listen to Sasha because if anyone could figure out what she had meant by that, it was him. Eren groaned and stood up with a stumble.</p>
<p>“My car…”</p>
<p>“Stay at Armin’s and get it later. Let’s go.”</p>
<p>She needed to escape before Sasha could open her mouth one more time. It wasn’t like that. Armin swayed beside her so she slipped her arm around him. It was simply the right thing to do after all and, no, it did not make that warm and fuzzy feeling grow inside her. Not one bit. Mikasa glared at anything or anyone that crossed her path. If she projected enough cold energy, maybe she could convince herself to feel it.</p>
<p>To make matters infinitely worse, by the time they stood at the base of the stairs one needed to climb to arrive at Armin’s apartment, he was slumping into her again. Eren was already leaning into the rail and pulling his way up with a drunken determination that was almost admirable. Mikasa felt Armin getting heavier by the second. How much had he had, anyway? She had not taken him for much of a drinker.</p>
<p>That was neither here nor there. Only one choice remained.</p>
<p>Jesus Christ, she thought at the first step. Armin was not particularly light and it sure as hell was difficult to ignore the way his head lolled into her shoulder. His breath was warm on her neck and his fingers curled dangerously close to her chest. If it were anyone else, save perhaps Sasha, she would have dropped them right there at the first sign of flat ground.</p>
<p>Instead, she carried him all the way through his tiny studio apartment and straight to his bed where Eren had already collapsed. Ridiculous. Armin let out a miniscule snore as soon as he was beneath the covers. He was still in her cardigan. She shook Eren’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“Is he going to be alright?”</p>
<p>“Nyuh?” Eren propped himself up on an elbow and rubbed his eyes. “Armin? He’s fine. It’s always a shitty day for him.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“It’s - aw, fuck, forget I said that. Nevermind. Go home.”</p>
<p>Eren made a weak shooing motion before sinking back to the bed. Her heart sank and she wondered what part was so bad about today. Always? Why? And why would Eren tell her to forget? She looked one last time at Armin’s face, peaceful in sleep, before retreating from the apartment.</p>
<p>It was one of those rare nights where nothing that came through her car speakers soothed her or even felt acceptable. She shut the stereo off and cracked the window. The sharp air felt good on her cheeks. Now that she reflected, Armin had been somewhat distracted during much of the evening. Up until he was drunk, that is. He had not seemed sad in the least, though. Whatever Eren was talking about, Armin had hid it well.</p>
<p>She was grateful to crawl under her own covers. There was a distinct possibility that Sasha might burst in at three in the morning, but until then Mikasa shut her eyes and burrowed further into her blankets. There was a twinge in her stomach when her brain called out of the blue the memory of Armin in her arms. She willed it away and gritted her teeth. It was not like that. She wouldn’t let it be. He was the kind of person who deserved someone else. Someone sunny. Someone who could smile as freely as he did. Someone she was not.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Unspoken</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Armin watched his mother let out an easy laugh. She held a clear plastic glass full of the same red liquid as everyone else. But she sent a glance down his way, with a wink and a genuine smile, then excused herself from the small crowd. Her eyes crinkled at her smile. She crouched to his level and relieved his undersized hands of the paper plate of half eaten cheese cubes and grapes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ve got one just for you. Do you want to see it?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>He nodded until she tucked his hair behind his ear and reached for his hand. Her fingers engulfed his and led him around a white wall that seemed like it could go on forever. For the first time all night, the color and the texture was at his eye level. She crouched again, hand clasping his shoulder.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What do you think?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Blue. Bright. He wanted to touch, but he knew better by now. A man’s voice cut between them. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“Are you still sure you won’t sell it? I’ve already had three people ask.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Armin’s mom leaned in and spoke softly so that only he could hear.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“What do you think? Should we sell it?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“No!”</em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>Mikasa stood at his door, two coffees and a take out bag in hand. What had compelled her to text him this morning, she could not pin down. A nagging itch. A suspicion. And if nothing else, a tiny, niggling desire to see him and confirm that the most damage of the night was in the form of a hangover. All under the ruse of retrieving one measly cardigan.</p>
<p>Armin looked, to put it nicely, a hot mess. His hair was every possible direction, he wore pajama pants, and he still had on the shirt from the night before.</p>
<p>“I brought breakfast. If you’re hungry?”</p>
<p>He gave her a half-hearted smile that was worse than if hadn’t smiled at all.</p>
<p>“You know I own food, right?”</p>
<p>Her heart fell.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I’ll just.” She motioned out to the breezeway behind her. She could buy a new cardigan. Disappear into a hole. Hunt down a desperate college student to help with that pesky website.</p>
<p>“No, wait, I’m sorry. That was supposed to be a joke. Cause, um, you always bring food.”</p>
<p>She still shied away, fully intending to escape until he spoke again.</p>
<p>“Do you want to come in?”</p>
<p>Against her feelings of trepidation, she did just that, setting the food and extra coffee cup on his all purpose coffee table. He rifled around his bed before returning.</p>
<p>“Here,” he said, “and I’m really sorry. I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe you really carried me.”</p>
<p>She took the neatly folded cardigan into her lap. Despite it being her whole excuse for coming, she didn’t budge.</p>
<p>“Don’t be sorry.”</p>
<p>He looked up from where his body slumped into the cushions. It was strange to see him so deflated. The longer she looked, the more she wished she could do something.</p>
<p>“Armin?”</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“Are you ok?”</p>
<p>He shrugged and glanced away. Before she knew what she was doing, her fingers were on his arm. His face turned back towards her in a heartbeat.</p>
<p>“I know we haven’t known each other very long. But if you ever want to talk,” she offered.</p>
<p>His eyes searched hers and he gave a slight nod. Mikasa reluctantly let her hand fall away when he leaned forward.</p>
<p>“That coffee is for you,” she said, standing and taking her own cup in hand. She had no further reason to stay except that she wanted to, which didn’t seem quite good enough.</p>
<p>“Wait.”</p>
<p>Armin cradled the coffee she had brought him, but nodded towards the table.</p>
<p>“You don’t want any?”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to bother you.”</p>
<p>Which was a ridiculous thing to say considering she had practically invited herself over. Not to mention barging in on some kind of foolhardy desire to ascertain his well being. Armin gave a tiny shake of his head.</p>
<p>“You’re not bothering me. I don’t have plans or anything.”</p>
<p>Mikasa came back down, perching on the edge of the couch.</p>
<p>“Me neither.”</p>
<p>This time when he smiled it was full and bright again.</p>
<p>“Ok. I think I’m just going to get dressed though. I’ll be right back.”</p>
<p>She took a sip of her own coffee and let herself relax. Armin disappeared into the bathroom with a handful of clothes and less trudge in his step. There were questions she could ask; questions that might develop her loose theories. It wouldn’t be right, though. So she waited and enjoyed the warm beverage and the way the sofa smelled like him. He reappeared, significantly neater.</p>
<p>“Why contacts,” she asked as he wandered back to their funny little meal. Armin’s hand drifted to his face.</p>
<p>“Oh, uh. You don’t think the glasses are kind of… nerdy?”</p>
<p>The better question, she thought, was why did he?</p>
<p>“No. Who told you that?”</p>
<p>“No one,” Armin mumbled. His stomach growled loud enough for her to hear.</p>
<p>“So much for owning food,” she teased. Armin paused and Mikasa wondered if it wasn’t funny. It wouldn’t be the first time.</p>
<p>Then it happened all at once. A small sound that erupted into something clear and light. She found it impossible not to break into a quiet laugh of her own, however short. Armin shouldered her playfully before taking the paper bag and peering inside.</p>
<p>“All right, so,” he studied the contents, “muffin or croissant?”</p>
<p>“You pick.”</p>
<p>“No, you brought it. I’m happy with either.”</p>
<p>“Well I’m happy with either,” she stubbornly echoed. He plopped both down, left to the kitchen, and returned with a knife and a mission to halve them both.</p>
<p>“This way,” the knife cleaved the muffin, “neither of us,” then the croissant, though with more difficulty, “has to choose.”</p>
<p>Armin put her halves on a napkin he had brought along, satisfied with his solution.</p>
<p>“What if I wanted the muffin?” she teased. His eyes widened and he grabbed his half immediately.</p>
<p>“Oh, then, here.”</p>
<p>“No, I - it was a joke. Sorry.”</p>
<p>He tried to frown, but the corners of his lips resisted.</p>
<p>“So, you just like messing with people or what?”</p>
<p>“Only friends,” she replied without thinking. Armin froze. Oh. It felt like ages before he moved, but then he was twisting to better face her. He pulled his legs up and looked comfortable for the first time that morning. When he spoke, his voice was soft.</p>
<p>“Thank you. For breakfast. So you said you don’t have any plans?”</p>
<p>She shrugged.</p>
<p>“I was thinking about going to this new gallery that just opened.” She paused, nervous, but decided to just go ahead. “Would you want to go?”</p>
<p>Armin’s face went straight back to how it was when he first answered the door.</p>
<p>“No, I don’t think so. Not right now.”</p>
<p>Great, she had made it worse. Of course she had. Of course he didn’t want to hang out with -</p>
<p>“But maybe something else?” Armin supplied. “If you wanted. But we don’t have to, I don’t want to mess up your day or anything.”</p>
<p>He looked away and began picking at the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Of course he wasn’t messing up her day. That would require her to have any plans in the first place. She had barely even been considering the exhibit, it was just the only thing she could think of and she could drag Sasha to that any day of the week.</p>
<p>“Something else sounds good.”</p>
<p>He perked up.</p>
<p>“Any ideas?”</p>
<p>She shrugged again. He gave her a challenging look.</p>
<p>“There has to be something.”</p>
<p>There was one thing. At the risk of embarrassing herself, but with equal risk that he would spend the day with her, she revealed her guilty pleasure.</p>
<p>“I like mini golf.”</p>
<p>The surprise across his features told all. He didn’t laugh like she expected him to though.</p>
<p>“Ok,” he said, a newfound energy behind his words, “Mini golf.”</p>
<p>He took a big bite of his muffin half just as his eyes went wide. Mouth full and chipmunk-like he blurted out,</p>
<p>“Wait, is that another joke?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Mikasa sank the ball. Another hole in one. Armin stared, incredulous.</p>
<p>“Jesus, you really do like mini golf.”</p>
<p>Her only response was a tiny smile, but Armin could tell she was enjoying herself. He had a sneaking suspicion that she might also be enjoying the incredible point lead she had on him. Ah well. Mini golf was not exactly on his list of life aspirations as far as successes went and, honestly, he was just happy for the company.</p>
<p>It would have been the same as every year otherwise. He would probably have curled up on the couch with a happy movie or good book. Eren might have come back over in the afternoon, should he have been compelled to check on him. Armin would never have asked. Then, Mikasa had shown up.</p>
<p>Most of the time it really was not so bad. It was his own fault, really. He should have seen it a mile away. In fact, he did, he just refused to acknowledge it. Armin had thought he could handle it: the art show, the anniversary, all in one weekend. In hindsight, perhaps he should have attempted going to a gallery before the day of. He hadn’t stepped foot in one since it had happened. That was the irony, he supposed. He had put it off because he dreaded it so much, only to go through with it at the worst possible time.</p>
<p>The void shrunk ever so slightly with time. It was never destined to fully close, but neither would it be all consuming as it had once been. <em>That</em> was before he had made a series of shortsighted decisions that led him to ending up kneeling in the bathroom not long after she had deposited him in his bed. Not his finest evening, that was for sure.</p>
<p>
  <em>Wait.</em>
</p>
<p>Armin allowed his eyes to come back into focus. He was still standing in front of the ball. So much for this being a distraction from his head.</p>
<p>“Sorry, I think I zoned out.”</p>
<p>Mikasa only replied with a simple, “You did.”</p>
<p>“Sorry.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be. But it is your turn.”</p>
<p>He returned to the task at hand, a feeling of comfort spreading through him. She was calm and steady. Armin’s shot got closer to the cup than he expected it to, but it took him four more shots to actually sink it. Mikasa retrieved the ball with a glint in her eye.</p>
<p>It suddenly seemed a less lonely day. Even though she didn’t know, he got the feeling he could tell her if he wanted to. Although standing at the counter to return putt-putt equipment was hardly the right setting for that sort of opening up. Neither was the walk to the car. Or the drive home. Only when he was about to get out of her car did opportunity strike.</p>
<p>“Armin?”</p>
<p>He paused, one leg out of the door.</p>
<p>“Are you feeling any better?”</p>
<p>This is when he could have said something. The urge to share struck him, but he held back anyway. Another day perhaps.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Thank you,” was all he said.</p>
<p>“I’m glad.”</p>
<p>Armin watched her drive away. Despite saying nothing of it aloud, a new feeling stirred inside him as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. He was finally ready.</p>
<p>The bin slid easily from beneath his bed. He made the mistake of trying to blow the accumulation of dust away, causing a minor coughing fit. It had been at least a year since he had touched it. Three since it had been opened. The canvas looked as new as it had the day his mother had declared it was not for sale. His fingertips found her signature. He knew he ought not touch the work, but just this once…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Ghosts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa pulled up to Eren’s apartments, a dingy, questionable fourplex that her brother repeatedly defended as having character and an irreplaceable landlord. Which it <i>did</i>, but so would plenty of places within Eren’s price range. The truth was that he was cheap like their father. Her trunk thudded shut before the passenger door wrenched open and an upbeat Eren dropped in. </p><p>“Seatbelt,” Mikasa reminded sternly. Eren complied with a withering look and oh so predictable pushback.</p><p>“You know, I’m an adult,” he argued. Pointlessly, of course.</p><p>“An adult who is perfectly capable of flying through a windshield,” she said flatly. </p><p>“Christ, just drive.”</p><p>Armin’s apartment, on the other hand, was well-kept, miniscule, and most likely overpriced if the location was anything to go by. If she had to guess, the location was precisely why he must have chosen it. </p><p>“Four three two two,” Eren recited at the gate pad. Which would have been helpful, except she had already typed it in. Eren gave her a curious look that she chose to ignore. She parked and unbuckled in the first spot at Armin’s building.</p><p>“I’ll go get him.”</p><p>Eren began to say something, but she shut the door before she could actually tell what and took the stairs two at a time. The door opened right as she raised her knuckles.</p><p>“Eren already texted me,” Armin said, grinning.</p><p>Right. What was she-</p><p>“Wait,” she said as he began to close the door, “that’s new.”</p><p>Armin followed her finger, pointing at the art on his wall. Mikasa knew right away it was not some imitation junk from the sort of store that could only be found in a shopping strip. It was different; genuine. How, not to mention why, had he come to possess it? Him, whose apartment was filled to the brim with creatures and books, but noticeably empty walls. Mikasa invited herself in and right up to it. Armin followed.</p><p>“It was my mother’s,” he said quietly, his hands tensing in the corner of Mikasa’s vision.</p><p>“She collects art?” </p><p>“She painted it.” </p><p>Mikasa stepped back and took another look, wondering what felt so wrong about the way Armin wrung his hand with the other and shifted back and forth on his feet.</p><p>“It’s beautiful,” she said. He wouldn’t look at her, but he nodded.</p><p>“I think so, too.”</p><p>“You never told me your mom is an artist.”</p><p>“She isn’t. Or, I mean, she was. When she was alive.”</p><p>His voice dropped. Mikasa’s heart sank as her brain finally began connecting the dots.</p><p>“Last weekend,” she began to ask, stopping her own curiosity two words too late. Armin met her gaze with sadness. She had to do something. Anything. </p><p>She stilled his fidgeting fingers. His palm was warm and soft and gave beneath her fingertips. Armin’s eyes widened in surprise, nearly as much as her own. Before she could properly think about it, judge herself for it, there was a response and the slightest return of pressure. Then a quick rap at the door. Her hand emptied while her cheeks filled with warmth. Eren’s head poked in.</p><p>“What are you doing up here? We’re going to be late.”</p><p>Armin slung a bag over his shoulder and grabbed a small suitcase before they trailed after Eren. </p><p>As it turned out, they weren’t even close to late. The drive to the airport was quick and the car queue even quicker. Mikasa wasn’t sure if this was better or worse than a long wait. Her mind continued to replay the… incident. Worse was the fact that she had work after this. Or that the sight of Armin unloading his suitcase in her mirror made her chest tighten. She closed her eyes, only to have her mind throw her back all over again. Anxiety competed with excitement and she asked herself, had she really?</p><p>“Hey.”</p><p>Mikasa opened her eyes and turned to find him leaning into the passenger window. Eren waited impatiently in the background, arms crossed. A breeze sent a scattering of dark strands into her vision, but she still caught Armin’s easy smile.</p><p>“Thanks for looking after everyone while I’m gone. Just call if you have any questions, ok? I really appreciate it.”</p><p>“It’s no problem.”</p><p>“And -”</p><p>“Armin!” Eren’s voice cut in. Armin glanced over his shoulder before leaning back into the car. His words were choppy, flustered.</p><p>“-just. I.” His eyes flicked around, but would not meet hers. Mikasa was frozen to the steering wheel. Was he going to bring it up?</p><p>“Well, thanks,” Armin said after a long pause, “I’ll see you when we get back?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she answered, relief and disappointment settling in equal measure. He and Eren disappeared through glass doors. </p><p>The car was so empty and the last thing she wanted to do was drive to the also empty gallery to sit alone at her quiet desk. A horn sounded behind her, giving her no choice but to move on. It was simply too much time to be alone with her own thoughts. She didn’t want to think about how much she had liked it. About how she couldn’t seem to help herself or stop the familiar creeping of hope.</p><p>But when she turned Armin’s spare key in his front door lock that same evening, she realized she might not have a choice. The hum of various equipment filled the otherwise quiet apartment. Armin had left a literal booklet worth of instructions and she followed it down to the last detail. Suzie’s tank closed with a resounding click, the last of her charges, and Mikasa was participating in a brief staring contest when her phone began to ring. Apparently, being hundreds of miles away at a conference was not enough to disrupt Eren’s -</p><p>Armin Arlert. Incoming call. She let out a long breath before answering. </p><p>“Hi,” she said, straightening her back. </p><p>“Hey. I was just calling to check on everything. Unless, I mean, if you haven’t been over yet that’s fine, too. Sorry, I guess I could have texted.”</p><p>“Everything is fine. I’m here now, actually. I finished your instruction book.”</p><p>“Oh,” Armin chuckled awkwardly, “Sorry, it’s a lot. I really owe you. Thank you so much. Again.”</p><p>“Well, I do have this website I need help with.”</p><p>His laugh was infectious, forcing her own lips into a curve. </p><p>“Actually, Eren and I went to a really good workshop today. I was thinking about changing some things on your website, they had some great suggestions.”</p><p>“You were thinking about my website?”</p><p>“Sure. I think it’s getting pretty close, though.”</p><p>“It is?”</p><p>Her heart dropped a little. How close? How many Friday nights was that going to translate into?</p><p>“Yeah, I - Oh, hold on.”</p><p>A muffled version of Eren’s voice played into her ear, but she couldn’t understand the words. Then, Armin. Eren again. The rustle of fabric.</p><p>“Sorry, that’s just Eren.”</p><p>“You’re at the hotel?”</p><p>“Yeah, but he wants to,” Armin paused, “go out.”</p><p>“Oh. I won’t keep you. Have a good night.”</p><p>“You, too.”</p><hr/><p>Mikasa inked the beak, trying, for the love of god, to finish these stupid geese in time. She was never taking a commission from a family friend ever again. It wasn’t even her style. </p><p>“I didn’t understand a word you said,” she said, adjusting her earbuds and pulling the speaker closer to her mouth. </p><p>“Sorry, I’ve been surrounded by computer people for two days.”</p><p>Armin’s voice was warm and her only source of comfort, save for her hot tea, through these trying, bird filled times. It was her just reward for procrastinating this particular piece. Although she angled her head and reexamined one of the creatures on the page. No, nevermind, her next tattoo was not going to be a goose. That was definitely sleep deprivation talking. Then again… No. </p><p>“How’s the conference? Is Eren behaving himself?”</p><p>Armin snorted on the other line. They had fallen into a routine. He called her each evening and she answered. Just like how Friday had silently become their evening to ‘work’ on her website. Which really meant she drank wine on his couch while <i>he</i> worked on it. </p><p>“Would you call hitting on another attendee at the hotel bar behaving,” Armin asked sarcastically.</p><p>Mikasa raised an eyebrow and switched pens. </p><p>“Is he really?”</p><p>“Yep.”</p><p>“What about you,” she asked. A hard knot formed in her stomach. Surely he was now going to say ‘I’m about to join him, now that you mention it.’ He ought to. It would probably be a lot more fun than staying on the phone with her. </p><p>“I’m just sitting on the bed.”</p><p>“No, I meant aren’t you going to go with Eren?”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“To,” Mikasa paused, wondering why the hell she was doing this to herself, “I don’t know, go talk to people.”</p><p>“I am talking to someone.”</p><p>“I’m not boring?” </p><p>She cringed as she heard her insecurity spill over. It wasn’t supposed to do that. She wasn’t supposed to be showing that part to him. The brief silence was enough to make her contemplate hanging up altogether. She would just say her service had dropped. Or something.</p><p>“Of course not,” Armin said, his tone so resolute that she put down her pen. “I like talking to you.”</p><p>Her breath caught. Sasha emerged from the hallway and mouthed, “Armin?” to her. Mikasa hesitated long enough that her answer was no longer necessary and she received a suggestive look. </p><p>“Are you there?”  </p><p>What was she supposed to say to that? Is that what friends say? She couldn’t not respond, could she? </p><p>“Yeah. Sorry, I got distracted. Me, too. To you, I mean.”</p><p>Sasha made a multitude of gestures, the gist of which Mikasa was pretty sure meant ‘get off the phone.’ It probably was for the best considering her sudden inability to speak normally.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go. Sasha is doing weird mime things.”</p><p>“Hey!” Sasha protested. </p><p>“That’s ok. We’ll see you tomorrow. Or is Connie picking us up?”</p><p>“No, I can pick you up,” she said quickly. </p><p>“Ok, then, see you then. Goodnight.”</p><p>“Goodnight.”</p><p>Sasha knelt in front of Mikasa’s desk before she could even fully hang up. Sasha’s elbows came dangerously close to disturbing the neat line of felt-tips across the wood. </p><p><i> “Goodnight,”</i> she teased. </p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“I thought you said it wasn’t like that with Armin. Hey, I think you <i>also</i> said once that you thought he was going to be a jerk.”</p><p>“I did.”</p><p>“Oh come on, are you going to tell me what’s going on or what? This is the third day in a row you’ve been on the phone for over an hour. You don’t even like the phone!”</p><p>“You’re counting?”</p><p>“You’re not?”</p><p>Well…</p><p>“So,” Sasha asked, looking up expectantly. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Mikasa mumbled.</p><p>“Bull shit.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>Sasha popped up to her feet.</p><p>“I said bull. Shit. That’s it. We’re going out. You think you can skip out on me every Friday night for a month <i>and</i> not talk to me?”</p><p>“I have work to do.”</p><p>“Please, you’re two minutes away from refilling your tea and disappearing into your room.”</p><p>Let it never be said that Sasha did not know her habits. Mikasa felt a slight pang of guilt, too. She had never meant to sideline her best friend. </p><p>“Alright, let’s go.”</p><p>“Ha! Yes!” </p><p>Sasha fist pumped in her celebratory tradition. Connie wandered from the hall. </p><p>“Are you going out? Where to?”</p><p>“Sorry, Con, girl’s night.”</p><p>“I already live with you two,” he called as she and Mikasa slipped into Mikasa’s room. </p><p>A loud gasp pulled Mikasa from searching under the bed for that second shoe she just knew was under there. </p><p>“You didn’t.”</p><p>She turned to find Sasha holding a shirt that Mikasa might have possibly returned to purchase in secret one day. </p><p>“Have you worn this to his place? Was he, like, super into it?”</p><p>“Sasha,” she warned.</p><p>“Alright, alright.”</p><p>The lost shoe found it’s way into her hand. Connie rolled his eyes at them when they passed through the living room, but saluted them, lighter already in hand. He clearly did not require their company to keep himself thoroughly entertained. Mikasa spent most of their ride to the bar fielding questions from Sasha that had clearly been stacking up. </p><p>“For the last time,” Mikasa said, slamming the car’s back door, “we are <i>not</i> sleeping together.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“We’re just friends,” she insisted. A statement which felt increasingly questionable. They plucked their way to the bar top only for Sasha to resume the inquisition.</p><p>“Friends who talk on the phone an hour every day?”</p><p>“It’s only because he’s at that conference. He’s probably bored.”</p><p>Mikasa conveniently left out the part where Armin had specifically denied such a thing.</p><p>“Pfft. Please. Seriously, nothing has happened? At all?”</p><p>Sasha leaned in and Mikasa looked away with a, “Well.” Sasha’s face shined triumphant. </p><p>“I might have held his hand,” Mikasa admitted. Sasha tried to flag down the bartender.</p><p>“And now you talk every day and you think it’s because he’s bored with you?”</p><p>“I - You’re putting words in my mouth.”</p><p>“I really am not. Do you want something to eat? I’m going to get something.”</p><p>She watched Sasha’s exchange as the fear continued to build itself up. Until there was no stopping it and pushing it back down was suddenly impossible. This is exactly why she had avoided Sasha. It had only been a matter of time.</p><p>“You know,” Sasha said matter-of-factly and slid her card back into her wallet, “you could just tell him how you feel. Are you scared he won’t feel the same way?”</p><p>Mikasa shook her head slowly. Rejection now was hardly a scary thing. Rejection later, on the other hand… Because rejection had a more potent form. A nameless evolution that could only present itself after time had become a part of the equation. The patrons around them melted and it went against every fiber to say it out loud, but simultaneously she needed to. </p><p>“What if I’m a waste of time? Again.”</p><p>Sasha’s hands gripped hers in a way that was worlds apart from what Mikasa had shared with Armin. It was rough, tight, and one step away from actual pain. A lifeline. </p><p>“Mikasa,” Sasha hissed, “Don’t even think that. Is this what you’ve been worrying about? You can’t be bottling shit up like this. Look, he doesn’t even deserve for us to be talking about him. He was the world’s biggest idiot.”</p><p>“Sasha-”</p><p>“And Armin’s not an idiot,” Sasha rushed before Mikasa could begin to cut her off again. “So if you don’t want to start something because you don’t want to, or because you’re not ready, then don’t. But don’t decide because of something someone said. Someone who, by the way, was an asshole.”</p><p>Mikasa smiled in spite of herself. She had forgotten how good it felt to have Sasha on her side. The knot inside her gave just a little and she knew that her friend was right. She was getting stuck in her head again, repeating thoughts that weren’t even her own. Sasha slid Mikasa’s drink across the bar, accompanied by a new question.</p><p>“What do <i>you</i> want to do?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Flat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Armin chewed his lip. Eren lounged on the opposite hotel bed, flipping through channels. This was the first time that Armin had ever felt nervous to talk to him about something. This was not just any something, though. Somebody, rather. He had spent a good portion of the plane ride pushing his fingers into his palm, reimagining that moment. It wasn’t in his head, he was sure of it now. She felt something for him. He glanced across the room again, but any further denial was pointless. </p><p>“Eren.”</p><p>“What’s up?” came the distracted reply.</p><p>“I need to talk to you.”</p><p>He had Eren’s attention suddenly. The television shut off and Eren sat up. </p><p>“What’s up,” he asked again, engaged this time.</p><p>“It’s about Mikasa.”</p><p>“What about her?”</p><p>Armin took a breath. Let it out. </p><p>“I want to ask her to the office party this year.” He studied Eren’s shifting eyes.</p><p>An offended expression surfaced on Eren’s features and Armin’s stomach sank. Exactly as he had feared. Now what? Choosing wasn’t an option. Eren was his best friend. He had been there for him through so much. Why did he have to catch feelings for his sister of all people? He opened his mouth to try and explain, but Eren beat him to it.</p><p>“I thought you were taking me this year?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“You said you weren’t taking anyone and that I could come so I could see everyone. It’s been like six months.”</p><p>Was <i>that</i> the part he was worried about? Schmoozing with his old coworkers?</p><p>“You’re not mad?”</p><p>Eren gave him a bewildered look.</p><p>“I’m kinda mad you’re not taking me,” he grumbled, “Maybe I’ll ask Reiner. It’s not like he needs to use his plus one.”</p><p>Meanwhile, the TV screen was springing back to life and Eren was apparently over their conversation.</p><p>“Because I want to date your sister,” Armin reiterated in the plainest words possible, fearing Eren was misunderstanding the nature of the kind of relationship Armin was interested in. </p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Eren said with a nonchalance Armin had heard a million times, but he never expected to hear it now.  </p><p>Armin slowly crawled back to the headboard and grabbed his book from the nightstand. He made it through about five words before his brain interrupted. Was that it, then? He had been worrying all this time over nothing, trying to figure out exactly what his feelings were, only for it to be as interesting to Eren as the weather? </p><p>“Was there something else,” Eren asked from across the room. </p><p>Armin shook his head even though there was a giant, ugly lamp in the way. He had plenty else he could ask, but he didn’t. </p><p>“No,” he said, closing his book. Grabbing his phone. Then the room key. Walking towards the door.</p><p>“Tell Mikasa I say hi,” Eren called as Armin slipped out of the room. Eren had gotten more observant since college. Unfortunately, approval did nothing for Armin’s nerves as his finger hovered over her contact. He couldn’t. His brain was somewhere else now, spinning trying to understand. </p><p>Eren had been critical of Mikasa’s dating life since Armin could remember. Hell, he had been critical of Armin’s, too. Constantly suspicious, disapproving, and protective. He came to a stop at the end of the hall and looked out a dirty window to a flickering city that he wished he would have more time to explore when the sun would be up. </p><p>He pressed his forehead into the cool glass and sighed quietly through his nose. Eren, as much as Armin cared about his opinion, was only one piece of the puzzle. There was always a chance Armin was misreading things, although he didn’t think he was. That was also only one piece. The real question was whether Mikasa would snap closed the second he made any sort of move. </p><p>Armin brought the phone to his ear, counting his pulse as it grew with each ring. Truthfully, he had always had poor self control where curiosity was involved. </p><hr/><p>Mikasa stood at his door, arms laden with this week’s dinner and, seeing as it was a special occasion, dessert. The website was finished. She suspected that a fair amount of the work had happened outside of her visits. It was bittersweet, she thought, as the light from the apartment spilled into the warm evening air. Her eyes swept over him, trying to place what was different.</p><p>It all started as every other time. She pulled down dishes while he poured her wine. There was comfort in their repetition. This, their final repeat. She had dreaded it, but now that she was here, it hardly seemed like an end. When they floated back to the couch, it struck her how many hours must have been spent on it by now. He was going to tuck his feet up. She was going to sit a few inches closer than last week. Armin opened the laptop and her own work reflected back to her. </p><p>It wasn’t the end, it was the beginning. </p><p>Armin showed her the finalized features, most of which they had been over the week prior. Through the explanation, like so many times before, the blanket on the back of the couch made its way over his shoulders, contrasting the formality of the button up he had on. </p><p>That was it, she realized. Or, one of the things. His shirt looked crisp and smelled it, too. She tracked the edge of the fabric up to the sharp hairline above his collar. Her hand reached without thinking, brushing against his skin so briefly. He trailed off from his tangent on the intricacies of hamburger menus to turn his head. Mikasa pulled back as suddenly as she had stretched out her fingers, wondering what had gotten into her. </p><p>“You got a haircut,” she said, as if that explained her actions. He reached to touch the same spot.</p><p>“Yeah, a trim.” </p><p>Mikasa took a sip of her wine, the documentary in the background going largely unnoticed by both of them. It was still difficult to focus as Armin resumed talking, but not for lack of her trying. She forced herself to step back out of her thoughts and to hear him.</p><p>“- here is where you can see your traffic. Anyway, I know it’s a lot of information, but you can call me any time.”</p><p>“Thank you.” </p><p>She meant it, it was just that, well, how should she proceed? Did she just ask to come back in a week? He gave her one of his big smiles then pointed at the television.</p><p>“Oh look, this part is really cool.”</p><p>She followed his gaze to a screen full of stars. They still hadn’t talked about what had happened before the airport. Or talked about their long phone conversations, the last of which was only a few days ago. </p><p>“You’ve seen this before?”</p><p>Mikasa definitely had not brought up that maybe she was ready to take a chance. That part would probably be too weird to say out loud, though. For sure. So she kept herself still, impassive, and watched Armin watch the galaxy with a curiosity that no adult functioning in the real world had any right to. What was he doing sitting on the couch with her another night? Shouldn’t he be one of those people making films like this? </p><p>“Twice,” he said, reminding her that she had asked a question. “But we can change it if you’re bored.”</p><p>Mikasa could have laughed out loud. Did he think he could ever be boring? </p><p>“I’m not bored.”</p><p>Besides, how could she be bored when she was too busy being nauseous with anxiety? Armin was full on under his blanket by now, listening to the narrator’s every word. She could have kept him warm if he had only asked. Wrapped him in the kind of touch she had been without for years, despite only being single for little over one. It was getting harder to remember what exactly she was waiting for. </p><p><i>What if he wouldn’t want me to?</i> </p><p>Yes, that was right. What if. The urge to act made her skin itch. What was she doing, doing nothing? It would have been such a no brainer to her before. The only way to really find out was through action, not wanting. That was what she might have said before. What the Mikasa that felt buried now, stifled under layers of doubt, would have believed.  </p><p>“Are you cold?” </p><p>Armin was looking at her, face full of concern.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Oh. You were looking at the blanket. I thought-”</p><p>“I’m cold,” she said quickly. Lied. But her temperature was neither here nor there. Maybe she should start daydreaming about holding his hand again, if the cosmos were taking requests and all. Or clarity. If she wished hard enough, might he magically begin stating out loud the nature of their relationship? </p><p><i>Any time now would be good,</i> she thought as he lifted the fabric in invitation. Friends, or more than friends? Would friends be sliding closer, thighs touching, under two halves of the same blanket? No, right? Or, she would with Sasha, but they really were just friends. Not to mention, she was pretty sure Sasha was as straight as she was.</p><p>Oh god. What if he wasn’t even into women? It’s not like she had ever asked. Should she ask? No, she couldn’t just ask that out of the blue. </p><p>Could she? </p><p>“Mikasa?”</p><p>She slowly tilted her face. He didn’t seem so comfortable all of the sudden.</p><p>“I was wondering.” Armin paused. It was not a short pause. </p><p><i>If you want me to go with you to Pride this year?</i> she silently filled in just as he resumed.</p><p>“There’s this annual dinner party my company does. People usually bring guests and I thought, I mean you don’t have to, but if you wanted, to go?”</p><p>A <i>date?</i> Wait, he had not called it that, had he? Was it? God, why was this so difficult? When was the last time she even had to navigate these sorts of waters? Since the beginning of college? Had it really been that long?</p><p>Sasha’s voice leaked back into her conscience without warning. A spirit in her time of need. Or something like that. What did she <i>want</i> to do? </p><p>“Yes,” she said with a lot more calm than churned beneath the surface.</p><p>“Ok?” Armin said softly. But he didn’t look back at the film about the vast universe and all its wonder. She remained frozen, a statue under his intense stare. While she was immobile, his hand was rising in slow motion. Inches from her face. Brushing a dark strand away. This is where the other version of herself would have closed the distance. Instead, she waited, vision losing focus tracking his nearing eyelashes. </p><p>Her eyes began to close and finally her body began to respond. Fingertips brushed his arm while the other hand fisted a corner of blanket into her palm. Breathing was becoming a noisy chore, and the only thing she could hear aside from her own heart beat and buzzing.</p><p>Buzzing? The last of her air came out in a puff and she sucked in a new breath, heady with the smell of Armin. She clawed the ringing phone from the table, putting new distance between herself and himself. He looked about to say something, hand slightly outreached.</p><p>“What?” She answered the call, voice one notch higher than usual. </p><p>“I - Mikasa?”</p><p>“Who else?”</p><p>“I thought,” Eren paused, “but this is Armin’s number?”</p><p>Her gaze travelled back to Armin, who watched her with the smallest of amused grins. He held his hand out. The hand she had held once. The one that had brushed her hair away with a softness that had to be more than friendly. She pushed his phone into it and shrugged out from the blanket before making any more of a fool of herself.  </p><p>“N-no, I-” Armin got flustered and, if she was seeing things right, a tinge of pink spread across his cheeks. He looked up. “He says he tried to call you. What was that, Eren? Me? Of course I do. What? You don’t know how?”</p><p>Mikasa hunted around to find not only her phone, but multiple missed calls as well. Armin sighed, off the call. </p><p>“Eren has a flat.”</p><p>“A flat tire?”</p><p>“But he doesn’t know how to change one.”</p><p>She stared blankly, thinking back to the time that Grisha had most certainly taught them how. Although, Eren had never been particularly talented at following directions. If he would just <i>listen</i>. Armin rose from the couch and extended a hand towards her. She clasped it, rising, about to say goodnight to go bail Eren from the side of some road when Armin said,</p><p>“Shall we go rescue your brother?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Tiramisu</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa smoothed the fabric over her hips one last time.  Sasha stretched lazily across her bed, arm draping off the edge.  </p><p>“Are you coming home tonight?”</p><p>She turned her back to the rigid reflection in the mirror.</p><p>“Of course I am.”</p><p>“Just asking. You never know.”</p><p>“It’s not -”</p><p>“- like that?” Sasha finished for her.</p><p>Mikasa’s throat tightened and she glanced away. Just what it was, what they were… What were they?</p><p>Her heels clicked dully across the wood floor of their hall. Plastic crackled through the contrived art studio, dried paint forming tiny bumps beneath the balls of her feet when stepped on. Sasha’s hand caught her elbow before she could cross into the front room. </p><p>“Have fun, Mikasa.”</p><p>Fun. </p><p>A knock echoed from the front door, light and even. Fun.</p><p>“Hey,” Armin said as soon as the door revealed him. </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>That was really all she could manage. He looked… looked…</p><p>“We should go,” he said, “My boss is kind of weird about people being late to this thing.”</p><p>Mikasa nodded and followed him to the car, not entirely convinced she wasn’t hallucinating. Her stomach lurched. This was not the couch anymore. There was so much weight between them. Maybe she wasn’t as ready as she thought she was. </p><p>“Is everything ok?” Armin asked by the end of the street. She nodded tersely. The quiet expanded in the cab and she was at risk of drowning in it. Why had he asked her to this? She wasn’t a socialite, surely he had seen that by now. Her presence was not going to improve his standing and her conversational abilities were, frankly, questionable at best. He sent a worried look across the car and she caved.</p><p>“I’m not always good with people.”</p><p>The car rolled to a halt at the stop sign.</p><p>“Mikasa,” he said, turning an amused face towards her, “The people in question are not always good with people either.” His expression softened and he twisted in his seat a bit further. “But you don’t have to go. I can take you home. <i>I</i> have to go, or else I would offer to do something else.”</p><p>“No,” she said immediately. The suggestion that she would even consider backing down now made her bristle. One step at a time, that’s how she had to take this, that was all. As long as she didn’t stand still any longer. </p><p>Armin resumed easy chatter for the remainder of the ride, just easy enough for her to relax, if only by a hair. He pulled into a half moon drive paved with stone. Real flames danced in the sconces outside and a valet attendant began circling the car.</p><p>“This is,” she began, but trailed off, mildly surprised when her door opened without her touch.</p><p>“It’s a whole thing every year.”</p><p>Armin slid from the car, making his trade with the attendant. Mikasa kept her mouth shut and got out, ignoring the outstretched hand of the staff on her side. Her gaze flicked suspiciously between the kept foliage and, again, real gas sconces? He shuffled beside her, catching her discomfort. </p><p>“I know, it’s a lot. But there are free drinks.”</p><p>Mikasa didn’t care about free drinks, she cared about sticking out like a sore thumb. The nicest event she had attended in recent memory was Sasha’s art opening, where wine was served in Chinet and the cheese cubes on paper plates. She forced her feet to move, to follow him through heavy wooden doors, only to be met by what she could only describe as a cackle on the other side of the vestibule.</p><p>“Hey! Look who showed up!”</p><p>The brash voice came from a tall woman with a drink in hand. Dark liquor swirled as she approached them. Her amusement was plain as day as she addressed Armin.</p><p>“I was wondering when you were going to show up. Your boyfriend is already here.”</p><p>Mikasa held her distance, not entirely sure what she was watching unfold. Armin shook his head at the woman’s comment, but seemed hardly offended. </p><p>
  <i>Boyfriend? She must mean Eren... Right?</i>
</p><p>“So, are you going to introduce me, or what,” the woman asked impatiently, gaze shifting to Mikasa. Armin glanced nervously between them. </p><p>“Ymir, this is Mikasa. Mikasa, Ymir.” </p><p>Ymir stuck her hand out, a big smirk on her face. </p><p>“Oh my god, I thought he was fucking with me when he said he was bringing someone.”</p><p>Mikasa narrowed her eyes, but accepted, maybe squeezing harder than was necessary. Ymir rubbed her hand afterwards, but her smirk broke into an actual grin. </p><p>“Hi, Armin,” came a bubbly greeting from his other side. “And you must be Mikasa.” </p><p>A cheery blonde inserted herself between Ymir and Mikasa, offering a hand. Mikasa shook hers too, with a lot less force. </p><p>“I’m Historia,” the newcomer offered. Ymir looked between them.</p><p>“Wait, how would you know her name?”</p><p>“Eren.” </p><p>Historia flashed a smile, but Ymir was unsatisfied.</p><p>“What does Eren have to do with anything?”</p><p>“He’s her brother,” Historia replied before taking a sip from an elegant champagne flute. A laugh bubbled up from Ymir, throaty and full. Armin, eyes wide, tapped Mikasa’s arm.</p><p>“Do you want a drink?” he said in a rush. </p><p>They walked away slowly, but it felt like running. Mikasa was sure she wasn’t just imagining the shade of red creeping up Armin’s ears. Still, he was ushering her away with a palm on her back that sent a thrill up her spine and he could have been leading her to the back alley for all she cared. Eren leaned against the bar they were fast approaching, flanked by two oversized men. </p><p>“Armin,” one of them said. The other waved shyly from behind Eren.</p><p>“Mikasa, meet Reiner.” Eren pointed to his side, then to his back, “and his boyfriend, Bertolt.”</p><p>“Hi,” she said, silently noting the disappearance of Armin’s hand. She wanted it back.</p><p>There was a new round of handshakes, but the conversation returned quickly to something about scripts. She sighed. Where was Armin? Had he brought her here only to leave her to fend for herself among these people? Eren was hardly of any use, arguing a point about something she had to assume was related to computers. She had thought Armin was going to be more -</p><p>“So, they had a cabernet. I hope that’s ok?” </p><p>Armin rematerialized and proceeded to slide a glass into her hand. Their fingers brushed. Was she imagining that he lingered before pulling away? She clung to it like a buoy as he led her through the stream, passing clusters of cocktail wielding guests.</p><p>“Sorry, I thought Eren would be better company. You’d think they would want to talk about something other than work,” he muttered as they approached the edge of the crowd.</p><p>“Where are we going?”</p><p>“You’ll see,” came his confident response. </p><p>She glanced down, surprised, to find an expression she had seen before, but when? Another heavy door was before them, steel and glass standing between the warmth of indoors and a dimly lit courtyard. The evening was cool on the other side with a breeze that threatened to bring a chill in the coming hours. It was perfectly peaceful. A romantic setting, even. </p><p>
  <i>Is this where you bring your date every year?</i>
</p><p>That is what she wanted to ask. Right after, ‘this <i>is</i> a date, right?’ and, if so, why her? She was gathering so many questions the more time she spent with him. Here came the latest one, adding to her already cluttered mind. </p><p>Seriously, where were they going?</p><p>She followed around a bush, another bush, and a small stone wall. If taking her to the courtyard had been some sort of suave move, this was the opposite. The equipment yard hummed loudly in its enclosure, with no particularly redeeming features. At her pause, his hand closed around hers. <i>This</i> was it? </p><p>He tugged her further, though, towards a gap on the opposite wall with a broad smile on his lips and suddenly she remembered. The window. Sloping grass met her feet and stole her attention. A dark ribbon of water carved the back of the property, disappearing around a corner that hinted at a dock. </p><p>“I didn’t realize the bayou ran back here,” was the first thing she thought to say. </p><p>“Yeah.” He tilted his face up, twisting to look into hers. “You looked like you needed a break.”</p><p>Then he was turning back, eyes scanning the water, as if he sensed how she needed everything to stand still. He understood. His hand remained over hers, but his body stood innocently spaced away. They stood, silent, except for the sounds of the equipment still churning and realization hit her. He was waiting.</p><p>“Thank you,” she whispered.</p><p>He turned abruptly, a smile stretching his lips. </p><p>“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how did you get so good at mini golf?”</p><p>“Oh. Eren and I used to go all the time.”</p><p>“Did he ever win?”</p><p>“Once.”</p><p>Armin smiled wider. She took her first sip of wine.</p><p>“Do you always go looking behind air handlers?”</p><p>His laugh was clear and lifted the corners of her lips. He let go of her hand, but the shift had already tilted her lens. She stepped once towards him. </p><p>“Two years ago, I was trying to get away from everyone. That’s when I found this. It’s not much, but it’s quiet.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>His hands slipped into his pockets and he watched the water once more.</p><p>“Why was I trying to get away?”</p><p>“Yes.” Another step towards him. Perhaps heels had been a mistake. His volume dropped.</p><p>“My mom had just died.”</p><p>It was meant to be casual, but it was stiff. Rehearsed. Her hand found his shoulder.</p><p>“Sorry,” he muttered, “We can go back.”</p><p>Mikasa tightened her grip and pulled him closer. Into her.</p><p>“It’s fine,” he protested half-heartedly. His body betrayed him, folding underneath her one-armed hug, head rolling into her shoulder. There was a sigh and a word. Her name.</p><p>“Mikasa-”</p><p>He uttered it at the same time it rang out from somewhere in the background. It was followed by Armin’s name. Branches rustled and gravel crunched. Ymir popped out from the opening. </p><p>“Aha,” she exclaimed, “I knew you’d be somewhere weird. The toast is starting soon, you better get inside.”</p><p>“Already?”</p><p>Armin gave Mikasa an apologetic look. She let her arm fall and took another drink from her glass.</p><p>“I thought you said it was quiet,” she said once Ymir was out of sight. Armin’s face flashed anxiety until he recognized her teasing.</p><p>“Ymir is resourceful,” he said dryly. </p><p>The restaurant was oddly quiet now that the majority of the guests had made their way into the private room. Two empty seats remained conspicuously open at an otherwise full table. Mikasa narrowed her eyes at her apparent neighbor and dropped into her chair.</p><p>“What luck,” Ymir whispered as the ring of metal on glass hushed the room. What luck, indeed. </p><p>Eren and Armin were the last ones talking until Armin elbowed Eren and they both earned a look from a man with impeccable posture at the end of the table. As the toast began, so did food begin to appear. Mikasa glanced nervously at the array of utensils at her place setting and then at the waitstaff who was filling up her glass wordlessly. Then again, it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit more relaxed. </p><p>There was talk about numbers, figures, and something about goals, but she wasn’t sure. She gradually worked her way through an inch of wine and spent her focus on other things. Remembering. His head on her shoulder, the way he had said her name. The toast ended, but she only kept her eyes on him. Eren pulled him back in before the clapping had even ended, some sort of conversation she was not privy to. </p><p>She picked at the small salad in front of her with what she thought was the correct fork and shaved another inch off her wine. A buzz was setting in. Armin leaned her way. Somebody else spoke first.</p><p>“Hey, how long have you been dating? Cause Armin’s been -”</p><p>Choking and sputtering erupted to Mikasa’s left. Everyone’s attention shifted to Armin. His face was growing in color. Too much. She gave him a hard pat to the back. Relief flooded her to hear his cough subside and breathing return to somewhat normal. Armin brought his water glass to his lips, cheeks still a shade of pink, and sent her a very sideways glance from the corner of his eye. </p><p>“Ymir,” Historia hissed.</p><p>“What? It’s a normal question.”</p><p>Eren watched curiously. Too curiously.</p><p>“What about the crickets?” Ymir moved on, impressively unphased. Armin shot her a dirty look.</p><p>“What about them,” Mikasa asked.</p><p>“Does he keep them at his place? Is it weird?”</p><p>“They’re just crickets.”</p><p>Ymir leaned in even further, voice low.</p><p>“Armin. You never told me she liked your crickets.”</p><p>Armin ducked past Mikasa and until then she would never have thought he could actually look angry. Ymir’s laugh subsided, but only because Historia began quietly reprimanding her. Mikasa watched Armin absolutely stab a piece of asparagus, stunned. A new feeling crept into her throat. She hadn’t realized he could be so…</p><p>“Sorry,” he mumbled.</p><p>Mikasa slid her hand onto his knee, not sure if she was trying to reassure him or if it was simply to make contact. Armin stiffened, eyes wide and trained directly on hers. Eren’s voice echoed from his other side.</p><p>“Are you choking again?”</p><p>“I - I need to use the restroom.”</p><p>Armin’s chair squeaked against the floor as he fled the scene, leg slipping from under Mikasa’s palm. </p><p>“What did you do?” Eren accused across the empty chair.</p><p>“It was Ymir.”</p><p>“Ymir-”</p><p>“Wasn’t me,” she defended from Mikasa’s other side. Eren rolled his eyes. Mikasa finished her glass of wine. Fortunately, a waiter that was possibly better dressed than she was, swooped by with a bottle. Eren looked across the space.</p><p>“Hey. Did you forget we have to be at Mom and Dad’s in the morning?”</p><p>Mikasa gave him a withering look. </p><p>“Just checking,” he muttered.</p><p>By the time Armin returned, she was halfway through the next glass and the main course.  Was it too much? Possibly. It <i>was</i> free, though, as Armin had so astutely pointed out. She might have scooted her chair closer in his absence. He may have noticed. </p><p>“It really is a whole thing,” she said, watching a third plate be lowered in front of her. Her own words sounded strange on her ears. Oddly relaxed. It was Eren, however, that spoke up, voice thick with his own unknown number of complimentary drinks. </p><p>“I know. I can’t believe you took my invite. I almost missed,” he paused, poking the tiny dessert in front of him, “mousse?”</p><p>“Tiramisu,” Armin corrected, quiet and without eye contact. Mikasa sat upright, back glued to the chair.. </p><p>“Thanks again, Reiner,” Eren called across the table, none the wiser. </p><p>“No problem.”</p><p>She silently worked through her own miniscule dessert course, brain playing it on repeat until a tap on her arm drew her to the right. Ymir was gone, Historia in her place. When had that happened? Mikasa looked at another empty glass in front of her. Huh. </p><p>“It was nice to meet you.”</p><p>“You’re leaving?”</p><p>“Yeah, we’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”</p><p>Mikasa felt a hand land on her shoulder and spun in her chair. Ymir had her other hand on Armin’s shoulder.</p><p>“Yeah, nice to meet you. See you Monday.”</p><p>Eren stood after them, steadying himself on the chair.</p><p>“You’re not driving, are you,” Mikasa asked.</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“What time are you getting to the house tomorrow?” </p><p>“I told Mom ten.”</p><p>“Ok. Cool.” Eren waved across the table. “Later. Good to see you guys.”</p><p>Bertolt and Reiner waved back. Nerves rose up, past all the wine. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye.</p><p>“Are you ready?” Armin turned to her, offering her his hand. Mikasa took it and stood. Her heart thudded at the prospect of what she wanted to ask. More people shuffled past them. Her mouth opened anyway.</p><p>“You don’t have to take me home.”</p><p>His eyes widened. He understood, she was sure of it, but he wavered.</p><p>“I - I can call you a ride?”</p><p>She shook her head. He bit his lip. The gears turned. Did he not want…?</p><p>“I, um. Ok.” He looked down, looked back up. “Let’s - let’s go.”</p><p>Her stomach knotted. She didn’t even know what she wanted. If she wanted - No. One step. One at a time. Just a little more time. Together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please excuse me and my shifting tags. I think they're settled now...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Confessions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The apartment was dark except for the lights that provided a dim glow over some of the tanks. Armin only turned one small lamp to the side on, keeping everything low. </p><p>“Do you want some tea,” he asked. His fingers were fumbling at his coat. </p><p>“Ok,” she said, but only because he seemed to.</p><p>Even through her inebriation, her chest tightened and she grew increasingly nervous. She pulled down two mugs while he filled the kettle.</p><p>“Do you take anything in yours,” he asked. </p><p>“No.”</p><p>He glanced over, but wouldn’t hold eye contact. </p><p>“Ok,” he breathed. Another glance. “You look really nice,” he said even quieter. A blush burned at her cheeks, already so warm with wine.</p><p>“Thanks,” she replied, not much louder. “You, too.” </p><p>Her heart responded as he approached. </p><p>“Oh. Thank you.”</p><p>He took the mugs. Relief washed through her. Armin looked up, hands still clumsy as he fiddled with the tea bags. </p><p>“I hope Ymir didn’t bother you too much.”</p><p>Mikasa shook her head. Her thoughts on Ymir were mixed. She admired her attitude as much as she disliked that it had been focused on them. Plus, she had almost made Armin choke.</p><p>“She was fine.”</p><p>“Good… Do you - Do you want to sit down?”</p><p>Armin nodded towards the couch, mugs in hand. Mikasa took hers and nodded back. As every time before, he pulled his legs up. She sat close enough to touch. </p><p>“I hope you had a good time?”</p><p>He had already asked her that in the car. </p><p>“Yes,” she answered as she had before. “Armin?”</p><p>His eyes searched her face. He waited at her nervous stalling until she finally managed it.</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>Mikasa swallowed. </p><p>“Before we met, I didn’t like you.”</p><p>It felt good to finally admit it. Armin only continued to take her in. If he was upset, it didn’t show. </p><p>“Did I do something,” he asked calmly.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>She failed to elaborate. He toyed at the edge of his cup. Took a long sip.</p><p>“What about now,” he asked, voice quiet.</p><p>What about now? That she adored the way he lit up when he got excited about something? Or that she could spend another month watching him do a jumbly combination of nonsense, plugging away and stealing glances when he thought she wasn’t looking? </p><p>That she understood exactly why Eren spoke so highly of him and it was impossible to be upset anymore now that she agreed. That she longed to be closer; craved more. </p><p>It <i>was</i> like that.</p><p>“I,” she tried, but her body froze, fingers clutching the mug in her hands so tightly, as if she could relieve some of the pressure through the hot ceramic. </p><p>The words stuck in her throat. She stared at the dark liquid that still swirled in the mug. If she only peered into the cup long enough, she might pull it together and manage a normal answer of some sort. The heavy pull on her head from the alcohol was not doing her any favors. It occurred to her at some point that it had been a very long silence between them. She finally looked up, presenting only a weak smile.</p><p>Her untouched tea made it to the table. He set his down after, a funny expression on his face, but his body unmoving save a small shiver. </p><p>She didn’t realize she was holding him until his arm slid around her. Then two. Mikasa let a tiny noise out. His palms were warm on her back. If she wasn’t drunk before, she was now. It was so… nice. She had forgotten what it felt like to hug someone that wasn’t Sasha. Even then, it was not exactly a common occurrence. Minutes crawled by and her heart slowly descended from pounding. She waited for it to end, for him to pull back, but Armin said nothing. She said as much. Something unwound. It was his turn to make a sound at the back of his throat, but he didn’t let go.</p><p>When the world rotated, she only squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden spinning feeling. If she had been sober, she might have been horrified. All she was now was comfortable. Armin’s breathing was slow. Consistent. One, then another, each one lifting her head before lowering it down. If she focused past the buzzing in her brain, she could hear his heart beating. Her body sank into the cavity between him and the cushions. There was a sound that might have been her name, but it slipped from her grasp along with the room.</p>
<hr/><p>Mikasa’s head ached. A sheen of sweat was gathering on her skin as well. Even with her eyes closed, she was sure it must be early. She pulled her arm from the blanket.</p><p>A miniscule groan sounded beside her. </p><p>Her eyes flew open and she slowly turned her head to find hair inches from her nose. His hair. As carefully as she could, she drew herself up on one elbow to take stock. Armin was curled in front of her, expression peaceful and breath slow. For someone who seemed to be constantly cold, he was surprisingly emissive. Low light still glowed from the lamp in the room and the tanks behind them. A hint of the sunrise was beginning to make its way through the curtains that he never really closed. His back was to her, but there was no doubt about it; he had changed clothes.</p><p><i>Lucky,</i> was her first thought as she considered the way her dress twisted awkwardly at her hips. </p><p>Mikasa slowly sank back down with another realization. She watched the back of his head and debated, but any reason not to was increasingly hard to determine. </p><p>Armin leaned back at the touch until his back was right against her. Her fingertips brushed the front of his shirt. Part of her secretly wished he would wake while part of her dreaded what might happen if he did. Then again, there seemed so little reason to do anything but close her eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>“Hey - Mikasa. Mikasa!”</p><p>A hand on her shoulder rocked her back and forth.</p><p>“Hmnh?” she replied sleepily. A smudge that resembled Armin loomed in front of her. </p><p>“Wake up. You have to go.”</p><p>Her stomach tightened and her voice was still thick.</p><p>“Go?” </p><p>He gave her a final shake. His hand left her arm.</p><p>“Here - your shoes are right here, ok? I’ll be right back.”</p><p>By the time she recovered her vision, he had disappeared into the bathroom. She sat up and tried to understand the shift. Was it the spooning? Why did he come back to the couch with her, then? Irritation began to rise in her throat. He jogged out of the bathroom, fingers combing through hair that had not fully recovered from the night.</p><p>“Why do I have to go?”</p><p>A sense of accomplishment prickled inside her. It was something the old Mikasa would have said, stern tone and all. Armin stopped in his tracks and gave her a confused look.</p><p>“You - Don’t you have your trip? With Eren and your parents? I - I would’ve set an alarm, but -”</p><p>She sprang to her feet. </p><p>“What time is it?”</p><p>“Just after nine.”</p><p>
  <i>Shit.</i>
</p><p>“Here, I have your bag ok? Let’s go.” </p><p>Mikasa followed him without another word. They clipped down the steps at a pace that earned her a comment once they had collapsed in his car.</p><p>“Aren’t you in heels?”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“You’re… fast,” he mumbled. </p><p>“I can’t believe I forgot,” she said in her own quiet tone. </p><p>“I mean,” Armin began. He stopped himself. She wanted to ask, ‘What?” but she knew why he had left it in the air. </p><p>“Will you have service,” he asked, reading her mind. </p><p>“No,” she admitted. </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>His expression lifted at her unexpected honesty. Even with the less than stellar news.</p><p>“When do you get back?”</p><p>“Monday.”</p><p>“Monday,” he said under his breath. He was thinking. She didn’t need to.</p><p>“I’ll call?” she offered, opening her door. </p><p>Armin peered up at her with wide eyes.</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>The car rolled away. She clacked quickly up the walk. There was no time to think, only to change and pack. Mikasa opened the door. First, she really needed to get into a pair of pants. She crossed the living room. Then, she could worry about shoving a few things into her duffle. </p><p>She was forced to come to a stop by the figure at the mouth of the hall. </p><p>“It’s not like that,” Sasha said as she did. </p><p>Mikasa tried to weave around her, but Sasha blocked.</p><p>“Sasha, get -”</p><p>She got around her, only for Sasha to trail into her room.</p><p>“Look,” Mikasa said preemptively and shimmying out of her evening wear. At least Sasha had the decency to close the door. “We slept together. That’s all.”</p><p>“That’s <i>all?”</i></p><p>“Not like that,” Mikasa cried from behind the fabric of a t-shirt.</p><p>Sasha stared in bewilderment, at an actual loss for words. Until she found a few.</p><p>“What the fuck is it like, then?”</p><p>“No.” Mikasa started rolling clothes and shoving them into her old bag. “I - literally.”</p><p>She paused and straightened. Heat started to crawl up her neck when she stopped long enough to really think about it. Sasha was still visibly confused. Mikasa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her blush deepened and she tried to keep her face straighter in spite of it. </p><p>“I fell asleep.”</p><p>“Oh,” Sasha said with what could only be described as disappointment. “Wait, but you said -”</p><p>“Yes,” Mikasa said flatly, returning to her packing endeavor and avoiding eye contact. </p><p>“Like on his bed?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Where else? What, like on his couch or something?”</p><p>Mikasa nodded. She cast a glance sideways. Sasha was frowning.</p><p>“What,” Mikasa asked.</p><p>“Man, I never find guys to cuddle with <i>me</i> all night.”</p><p>
  <i>Cuddle?</i>
</p><p>Mikasa bit her lip.</p><p>
  <i>Yes.</i>
</p><p>She opened her mouth.</p><p>“I swear, if you say it’s not like that, I’m leaving right now.”</p><p>“I never invited you.”</p><p>“I - <i>hey.”</i> </p><p>Mikasa smiled when a pillow flopped softly against her side.</p><p>“Ok, seriously though, what’s up?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Mikasa admitted.</p><p>“Do you want something to be up?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Mikasa lied.</p>
<hr/><p>“I thought you said ten,” Eren teased the minute he opened the door. </p><p>“It’s only ten o’five,” Mikasa said. </p><p>Five minutes later than she had ever arrived at their parent’s house. She followed Eren inside.</p><p>“They’re almost finished loading the car, but Mom asked if we could get the sleeping bags from your closet.”</p><p>“What are they doing in there?”</p><p>“Why would I know? I live here as much as you do.”</p><p>Fair. They progressed through the hall. Both of them could probably walk it in complete darkness and still not knock a single photo from the wall. Each bedroom sat at opposite ends. How many nights had she in fact snuck through it and slipped into Eren’s room? </p><p> Mikasa paused at her least favorite picture like she had so many times before. When it was light, of course. Some days she wanted to rip it from the wall. Is that when she and Eren had begun to drift apart?</p><p>“What are you looking at?”</p><p>Mikasa sucked in a miniscule breath. She had forgotten he was there. The first word that popped into her head was, <i>nothing</i>, but she changed her mind as soon as she opened her mouth.</p><p>“I hate this picture.”</p><p>The honesty was like taking a breath of fresh air. Eren studied the photo before he slowly lifted it from its nail. </p><p>“Why do Mom and Dad even have it,” he asked, turning the frame over. As if there would be a clue on the backside.</p><p>“Probably because it was Christmas. And we’re in it.  You know she keeps everything.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Eren turned it back over. Five faces stared back. </p><p>“Never really liked him,” Eren commented. She stared at the face sitting beside her.</p><p>“Mom probably forgot it’s even here,” Mikasa said, unsure of what else there was to say. </p><p>“Probably.”</p><p>Without a warning, Eren opened his hands. The sound of glass breaking over the tile floor, that she had always thought was too cold, brought the sound of steps soon after. Carla’s worried face appeared. Her hands squeezed her hips. </p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>“Sorry, Mom,” Eren said innocently. He motioned to the ground.</p><p>“Oh - Alright, just - Stay there.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to do that,” Mikasa whispered the moment Carla disappeared.</p><p>Eren looked her dead in the eyes.</p><p>“It was an accident.”</p><p>She was going to protest; to correct him. However, all she did was break a small grin. Armed with a dustpan and broom, Carla rushed back. </p><p>“Can you - Just go get the sleeping bags, please?” </p><p>“Yes,” Mikasa and Eren answered together.</p><p>They picked their way around Carla’s efforts, both knowing any offer to help would be refused. Well, perhaps not from Mikasa, but she didn’t feel like offering. At that, guilt tempted her. She glanced at the mess. </p><p>“Mom -”</p><p>“Mikasa,” Eren called from her bedroom door. Carla looked up.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Nothing. Sorry,” Mikasa excused. She slipped into her old room where Eren was already digging through the closet. </p><p>“One,” he grunted, tossing a roll over his shoulder. She caught it like he knew she would. “Two.”</p><p>Mikasa set it at her feet, ready for numbers three and four. Carla’s voice wafted from the hall.</p><p>“Don’t forget one for Zeke!”</p><p>The world had come to a screeching halt, judging by the look on Eren’s face. Even Mikasa pursed her lips. Not good. Very not good.</p><p>Eren’s walk to the doorway was far too calm. </p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Zeke,” Mikasa heard Carla repeat, her cheerful tone like salt in the wound. Five was clearly not a good number at this house, no matter how much Mikasa thought Zeke was probably a perfectly decent person. She watched Eren warily, waiting for the argument. </p><p>It never came. A sour expression, the manhandling of three additional sleeping bags, and a frustrated furrow at his forehead - those all came, all the way to the car, but Eren stayed silent as he shoved each roll into the oversized SUV hatch. Mikasa might have preferred an explosion. At least that would be predictable. </p><p>Still, whatever newfound self control Eren had wrangled up concerning Zeke did not extend to his expression. </p><p>Mikasa wondered just how terrible it would be if she sprinted away right that second. She could grab her bags easily enough and drive straight home. Call Armin. Having <i>that</i> talk with him, as much as it filled her with a deep anxiety, suddenly sounded five times better than the next two days. She eyed the pile of supplies and felt her worrying accelerate at the sight of only two tents. </p><p>The car ride was not much better. She sat between them, uncomfortable in so many ways. Every minute that passed was another that the car could abruptly shift from their parent’s quiet music and front seat chatter to, at best, verbal headbutting. Or literal headbutting. She wouldn’t put it past Eren. It was eerily close to being a kid again. Waiting. Keeping level.</p><p>Eren was behaving, but she could feel him boiling underneath it all. He glared out the window at the roadside flying by. Zeke’s expression was not so hard, but it was almost funny how they were doing the exact same thing. She slipped her phone out as soon as she felt confident neither were paying any attention. </p><p>Mikasa had been dying to tell Armin since the moment Zeke’s name had left Carla’s mouth. Not even Sasha was going to understand the absurdity of it. A smile threatened her lips, but she held it back lest a comment come from Carla through the rearview mirror. Armin’s last message to her had been a picture of Suzie. It was lucky for Mikasa that Carla was not paying attention to the backseat at that moment.</p><p>The text reading, ‘You’ll never guess who else is here,’ sat typed under her thumbs, unsent. Mikasa erased it back to a blank box. Was it weird to say something so normal? It wasn’t as if she could address the other thing yet.</p><p>Could she?</p><p>‘I want to be with you.’</p><p>Mikasa stared at the tiny text on the screen. She hadn’t - It just sort of… came out. It hit her hard when she realized how much she might mean it. Still, besides the fact that it was absolutely absurd that she had typed it out in the first place, it was too strange to actually say to him. If she gathered her strength, perhaps on Monday she could suggest they go on a second date. That was furthest she could think for now. A bump in the road had other plans. </p><p>Her body went cold and her heart might have stopped the moment the words turned into a miniscule bubble. She slammed the phone face down in her lap. </p><p>“What?” Eren said lazily, eyes still out the window.</p><p>“A text,” she breathed, too stunned to deflect. </p><p>No. This could not be happening.</p><p>“You’re getting service out here? I lost mine like ten minutes ago.”</p><p>Her heart pounded in her chest. Did she even dare to hope? As carefully as she could, trying to avoid arousing suspicion, Mikasa flipped her phone back over. </p><p>She had never been so happy to see an error message in her entire life.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Woods</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa continued her attempts at sketching. It had been intended as a distraction from thoughts of a certain blonde, but all she had done for the past two hours was illustrate tiny versions of various flora that she thought he would find interesting. Her current subject was a thin vine crawling up a fat trunk with old, rough bark. Normally, she wouldn't gravitate towards botanical illustration, but there was a piece of her that kept imagining showing it to Armin and watching him soak it in as he did all information: wide eyed and curious.</p><p>The sounds of Zeke and Eren arguing continued, like a faint soundtrack. She sighed at the biggest travesty of all. In her rush to pack, she had forgotten her headphones. All that was left to do was swing between cringing at her incident in the car, listen to pieces of the fighting, and ink miniscule forest finds for a person that she inexplicably found herself missing.</p><p>Carla appeared from around a tree, her fake smile shining brightly.</p><p>“How about a hike?”</p><p>Mikasa nodded and packed her things away as tidy as always. The hike was definitely meant as a distraction, but if their parents thought it would work as some sort of magical bonding experience for Eren and Zeke, their plans were immediately thwarted by Zeke’s refusal to participate.</p><p>“I don’t know why he had to come at all,” Eren grumbled to Mikasa a few minutes up the trail.</p><p>“They want you to get along.”</p><p>“If they think sharing a tent is going to make me like him, then I’m sleeping outside tonight.”</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t sleep outside.”</p><p>“Yes I can. People do it all the time.”</p><p>“What if it rains?”</p><p>“I’ll get wet.”</p><p>Mikasa focused on the path ahead.</p><p>“They could have at least warned us,” Eren continued under his breath.</p><p>That was true, she agreed, but said nothing. She let her mind wander back to the early hours of the morning as they trudged on. Waking up to Armin had been so -</p><p>“How’s your website?”</p><p>She looked up at Eren’s sudden question.</p><p>“Finished.”</p><p>“Yeah, but how is it? Good, right?”</p><p>Mikasa was suspicious.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Eren smiled proudly.</p><p>“See, I told you Armin could do it.”</p><p>“I didn’t think he couldn’t.”</p><p>He ignored that.</p><p>“I knew you would get along if you met him. Didn’t really think you’d get along <em>that</em> well, but I’m glad.”</p><p>She didn’t ask what his definition of ‘that well’ was. But Eren kept on, per usual.</p><p>“He’s probably the only person you’ve been interested in that I’ve ever liked. And now that you’re dating, I don’t have to worry about either of you. Although, you can’t have him every Friday, you know, he’s my friend, too.”</p><p>Mikasa stopped in her tracks.</p><p>“We’re not dating.”</p><p>“You’re not?” Eren paused as well. “Why not?”</p><p>That was… complicated. Sort of. Was it?</p><p>“What about the company dinner,” he asked.</p><p>“That was just dinner.”</p><p>Eren scoffed. Carla and Grisha noticed the break in the pack and doubled back towards them.</p><p>“That is not just a dinner. Were you there?”</p><p>“It was fancy,” she conceded.</p><p>Eren narrowed his eyes.</p><p>“Are you toying with him? Because if you are, I swear -”</p><p>“Of course not,” she hissed quietly. Carla and Grisha were closing in.</p><p>“Done with the hike, kids?” Grisha called as they walked up.</p><p>“No,” Eren answered before Mikasa could say ‘yes.’</p><p>“I think we might be,” Carla admitted.</p><p>“Ok, we’ll see you at camp,” Eren said, waving them off.</p><p>Mikasa tried to protest, but Eren hit her arm. Grisha and Carla might have noticed but said nothing. They left them in the middle of the trail.</p><p>“What do you want,” she demanded.</p><p>“Why aren’t you dating Armin?”</p><p>“Why don’t you mind your own business?”</p><p>“This is my business.”</p><p>“I don’t think you understand how business works.”</p><p>Mikasa resumed the hike at an impressive pace. Eren kept up.</p><p>“If you’re not interested, you should just tell-”</p><p>“Stay out of it.”</p><p>She sped up. He was undeterred.</p><p>“You’re being stubborn.”</p><p>“Says the person who has been arguing nonstop with Zeke all day.”</p><p>“So what? You’re still stubborn.”</p><p>Eren grabbed her arm and she consciously resisted shoving him off. They weren’t kids anymore.</p><p>“What, you don’t want to talk to me anymore, Mikasa?”</p><p>“We don’t talk now, Eren.”</p><p>“We used to.”</p><p>She folded her arms and glared. He crossed his right back.</p><p>“Ever since-”</p><p>“Don’t,” she warned.</p><p>“Fine.” He dropped his arms and passed her.</p><p>“Where are you going?”</p><p>“Hiking,” he yelled over his shoulder. She caught up easily. It wasn’t like he could go that much further.</p><p>“There isn’t even trail left. What, you’re going to sulk in the woods?”</p><p>“Maybe. What do you care?”</p><p>“Of course I care.”</p><p>Mikasa ducked from a branch he let spring loose after him.</p><p>“Is that why you won’t tell me? Because you care?”</p><p>The terrain was growing more difficult underfoot, but they pressed on, both unwilling to turn back. Eren was fast, but she matched him easily.</p><p>“We’re too far, we should go back.”</p><p>“I don’t feel like it.”</p><p>“Eren-”</p><p>“You go back, then,” he said, finally coming to a stop.</p><p>They were surrounded by trees, each more similar than the last.</p><p>“Just come back. We’re too old for this.”</p><p>“We’re here aren’t we?” Eren retorted, starting back on his nonsensical hike into the woods.</p><p>Not that the park was really that big. They would hit a fence before long, she supposed. She followed wordlessly, unwilling to stop if he wasn’t. She couldn’t exactly return to camp without him. Carla’s voice rang in her ears.</p><p>
  <em> “You left your brother in the woods?” </em>
</p><p>However, it was not a fence that marked their impasse in the end, but a ravine. Eren stood too close to the edge of the bank for her liking. The sun threatened its retreat for the day.</p><p>“Eren…”</p><p>“What?” he spat.</p><p>“What are we doing out here?”</p><p>“If you don’t like it, go back. I didn’t ask you to follow me.”</p><p>She sat down, mud and leaves and all, and buried her face into her knees. Footsteps crunched her way. Eren plopped beside her and she felt his arm around her shoulders for the first time in years.</p><p>“No - come on, don’t cry. Look, I’m sorry, ok? I just don’t get it.”</p><p>“Get what?” she breathed into her legs.</p><p>“If you’re scared or whatever, I get that. But you shouldn’t lead Armin on.”</p><p>“I'm not - Why would I be scared?” she challenged. Even though she knew.</p><p>“I don’t know, it’s not like you talk to me.”</p><p>“You’re too busy with your friends - with Armin.”</p><p>“How can I be too busy with Armin? You see him more than I do now!” Eren removed his arm, his hands animated now. “I know the break up was hard, but -”</p><p>“You don’t know <em>anything</em> about that.”</p><p>“Tell me, then! So it didn’t work out, like that sucks, but are you -”</p><p>“There was someone else.”</p><p>It hung between them. She ducked her head back into her knees and shook it. This wasn’t supposed to come out. It was bad enough that Sasha knew.</p><p>“After…” Eren paused. She could practically hear the counting in his head.</p><p>“Four years.”</p><p>“And he left -”</p><p>“He didn’t leave.”</p><p>When Eren fit the pieces, he jumped to his feet.</p><p>“For how long?”</p><p>Mikasa rested her chin on her arms and stared at the fading light above the trees. She hoped Eren had brought a flashlight.</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Did you at least kick his ass? Because I will.”</p><p>“Don’t be childish.”</p><p>Eren kicked at the ground and huffed.</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>She stood slowly, dusting herself off and wiping her face on her sleeve.</p><p>“Why, so you could tell me you told me so? It’s not like you approved in the first place.”</p><p>“Yeah, well I was ri-” Eren stopped himself. For once.</p><p>“We should get back," she said, turning around</p><p>They picked their way back through the darkening woods. By the time they emerged on the trail, she had saved Eren from falling on his face twice. Stars were beginning to show themselves, visible now that they stood in the clear path. They reminded her of Armin, leaning in that night; brushing her hair away so gently. Maybe if Eren hadn’t called...</p><p>“I’m sorry, Mikasa,” Eren said quietly, barely audible over the crunch of the dirt trail.</p><p>“You didn’t do anything,” she replied, keeping her voice level. Eren put his arm back around her shoulders and pulled her back towards camp. Carla was probably freaking out.</p><p>“Armin would never-”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Then, what’s the problem?”</p><p>Of course he would say that.</p>
<hr/><p>Mikasa felt lighter than she had in a long time. Eren passed her the flask he had brought. Carla and Grisha had long since turned in for the night.</p><p>“Remember, one summer, when we got into a fight with the kids a few sites down?”</p><p>She remembered <em>him</em> getting into a fight and picking him up from the dirt. Many times.</p><p>“Which summer?”</p><p>He only chuckled and took a swig.</p><p>“When did we stop hanging out? We should do something this week.”</p><p>“Ok,” she agreed, a smile tempting the corners of her mouth.</p><p>“We could do something with Armin. If you promise not to third wheel me.”</p><p>“We’re not dating.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Eren said, “I kind of think you are.”</p><p>She was just buzzed enough, guard just low enough, to consider the conversation.</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“You’ve been seeing each other for like two months.”</p><p>Had it been that long?</p><p>“We were working on the website.”</p><p>“You don't even know how to code.”</p><p>“Did it occur to you that we could be just friends?”</p><p>Mikasa left out the part where she fell asleep holding him, or that they definitely weren't.</p><p>“Tell him that, then”</p><p>Mikasa's pulse jumped.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What do you think he invited you to that dinner for? To show you how just friends you are?”</p><p>“He was going to take you, what's the difference?”</p><p>Eren passed the flask back. She took a very long sip.</p><p>“The difference is that he's into you.”</p><p>“You don't know that,” she rasped, the liquor burning its way down.</p><p>“He told me.”</p><p>Mikasa stood from the chair, so fast that it nearly tipped over, and thrust the flask back into Eren's hands.</p><p>“You can't tell me that.”</p><p>Yeah, ok, even she knew there was definitely something, but Eren couldn't just <em>say</em> it. He shrugged.</p><p>“It's not like it's a secret. He said, and I quote-"</p><p>“Shh!"</p><p>“-'I want to date your sister.'"</p><p>“What kind of a friend <em>are</em> you?” Mikasa hissed.</p><p>“You've already been on a date," he called as she retreated to the tent; as she vowed never to tell him anything sensitive ever again.</p><p>Unbelievable. She unzipped the door as fast as possible without waking Zeke, who was snoring in a lump to one side, and sank to her sleeping bag. <em>Unbelievable.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Monday, Monday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The alarm rang, but Armin was already awake. He burrowed down into the comforter and closed his eyes.</p><p>Fully aware that there was no possible chance of them being back in town yet, he stuck one hand out from his cave and groped until his phone was in his hand. The brightness of the screen made him wince and there was, of course, no messages. Was she waking up right now, with bed head and that sleepy look?</p><p>He still couldn’t put his finger on what had caused the shift. The line between sitting on other sides of the couch and waking up beside her seemed like it ought to be a visible thing, but it continued to elude him. Over the years he had tried to learn to expect the unexpected, but - that had been <em>very</em> unexpected.</p><p>Armin sank further, breath hanging heavy beneath his blanket. Sticking to his face. He should have set his alarm that morning.</p><p>He tore the covers off all at once and rolled out of bed. He was overthinking it. Right?</p><p>Unfortunately, whatever hope he had that getting out of bed would solve the problem that had plagued him through the weekend was smashed in his tiny excuse of a kitchen. He stared into the bottom of the sink and, honestly? Missed her.</p><p>On the bright side, the weather was warming. It was bad enough that the office was so cold. He had even caught Reiner in a jacket once. He looked longingly at the pond, having taken to crossing by it on his commute ever since finding Mikasa there that afternoon. Had she brought her sketchbooks with her, he wondered, stacked perfectly neat with a tin of pens and pencils?</p><p>Down along the water, a breeze brought to him a fresh wash of anticipation. The day could hardly move fast enough and he was not even at work yet.</p><p>Distraction did find him, however, even if it came in a less than ideal form. Ymir headed him off at the mouth of the elevator bank, smirk and all. They boarded the nearest one.</p><p>“Good weekend?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Fine,” she echoed. “So, you’re not going to tell me about your boyfriend’s sister?”</p><p>“Stop calling Eren that. And her name is Mikasa.”</p><p>“Fine. Your girlfriend, then.”</p><p>He should have taken the stairs.</p><p>“Don’t look at me like that, Armin. You’re cute together. I almost barfed, so, congrats.”</p><p><em>Like she should talk,</em> he thought, remembering the way she clung to Historia drunkenly the year before.</p><p>“Well, I’m just glad she doesn’t work here,” Ymir stated loudly as the elevator chimed open. Armin was met with a stiff stare.</p><p>“Excuse me,” he mumbled awkwardly as he and Ymir shuffled aside. Annie said nothing, only took her place in the corner.</p><p>Ymir raised an eyebrow at him like she was helping at all. Besides, she was being dramatic. It had been very short lived. Unlike their current elevator trip, which seemed to be defying the space time continuum. When the doors slid open, Annie left as silently as she had come. Ymir pushed the close button incessantly until the cab lurched into motion again.</p><p>“So is she a glasses kind of gal? I always said they looked good on you.”</p><p>As it turned out, his return to traditional eye correction was not going to be left uncommented upon by Ymir.</p><p>“You called me four-eyes,” he reminded her.</p><p>“Did I?”</p><p>Armin didn’t bother answering, but she still tracked him from the elevator and into the break room. Bertolt and Reiner were clustered around the coffee machine. Ymir crossed her arms.</p><p>“What, you don’t have coffee down on sixth?”</p><p>“Not today,” Bertolt sighed.</p><p>“Machine’s finally given up,” Reiner expanded. “Good weekend?”</p><p>“Great weekend, in fact. Unlike hot stuff over here.”</p><p>Yep, that was enough for one morning. Armin retreated to his desk. The coffee would be there all day and, thankfully, when she did finally plop into her chair, Ymir left him alone. After what felt like an hour of attempting to set up a menu button he caved checked his phone.</p><p>Ten minutes. Fuck.</p><p>Time for caffeine then. He wandered to the break room coffee pot. Wandered back. Checked his email. Contemplated laying his head onto the table, but managed one more menu button.</p><p>Two days had been so long already and now it was <em>the</em> day. Of what, he was not entirely sure, but waiting was torture.</p><p>Under a renewed promise to himself that the evening would bring just reward, Armin put his phone aside and pushed himself into his work. He was avidly avoiding the time, but after an entire menu, answering a rare phone call, and even clearing his inbox, he was sure it was well into the afternoon.</p><p>He flipped the phone over and nearly sighed out loud.</p><p>It was not even twelve. Then suddenly, his hand and heart jumped. A text. A -</p><p>He groaned for real. Ymir shot him a look.</p><p><b>Eren:</b> chill this week?</p><p><b>Armin:</b> Sure, when?</p><p>Eren didn’t text back, but that was hardly unusual. He would probably end up calling Armin later or the next day. But Armin’s heart rate did not fully slow. They were back.</p><p>“I’m taking lunch,” he stated, heading for the deli on floor four. This was perfect timing. Surely she would call. Or say anything.</p><p>But halfway through lunch and a tuna sandwich, real nerves kicked in. He had thought that she had not committed that morning before she left because she needed time to process or to decide. What if she <em>had</em> decided, though?</p><p>Armin forced himself to breathe and enjoy the spring day from the bench he occupied. He was being paranoid. He didn’t even know when they had returned and she certainly could do what she pleased with her time. After all, for all she knew, he was completely occupied until five.</p><p>When five rolled around, after a day so painstakingly long that Armin practically burst from the office building, genuine concern replaced his hopeful anticipation.</p><p>
  <em>This is her answer.</em>
</p><p>He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the ground beneath his feet. A recurring thought wormed back into his mind. What if she had only said yes to the dinner because she felt obligated to? In spite of himself, he checked again. Still nothing. Thunder rumbled, the final threat to what had begun as such a good day.</p><p>Of <em>course</em> he would fall so hard only to not measure up. He wondered what part was a deal breaker in her eyes. He watched the afternoon light glint off the pond where she was nowhere near. A goose waddled by, their honk a taunt.</p><p>Armin ran a hand through his hair and admonished himself. He was overthinking. Again. It was only barely past five. Heck, with her track record, she could be sitting outside his front door.</p><p>She wasn’t.</p><p>He let himself in and went straight to the tanks in hope of distraction. It had been a while since he had cleaned them anyway. Unlike at work that day, he got lost in the task at hand until each glass wall was free of hard water spots and every leaf was rinsed. Suzie’s dinner even provided some entertainment, a livelier cricket than usual. Too bad Mikasa was not there to see it.</p><p>Armin frowned. He had it bad. Why did she have to be so… so… He sighed. This time he didn’t check the phone. Whether it had to do with him or not, he could not help but stew it over in his mind.</p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>And why now?</p><p>He opened the fridge and gave a bitter snort. She was right, he really didn’t have much in the way of food. He soon stared at rotating leftovers through the microwave door. The drone of it joined off key with the hum of Suzie’s lamp and he wished he could turn off his brain.</p><p>How could he miss someone he hardly knew? Because, if he was being honest, he really didn’t. If he did, he would know what was going on. Frustration bubbled up his throat. He <em>wanted</em> to know. Suspicions weren’t enough. He had information and he had guesses, but none of it mattered if she wouldn’t tell him herself.</p><p>The sink’s old plumbing whined open and he brushed his teeth with a vigor only made possible when one contemplated an absurd idea. Such as, showing up unannounced at a her house because whether or not she would answer a phone call was in question and that way, for sure, he could force a critical juncture.</p><p>No. He couldn’t push her into a corner like that. His phone read out just past eleven.</p><p>Armin returned to square one, his bed, and concluded that he ought not be left for more than twenty-four hours with his own thoughts and too many unanswerable questions. With any luck, and a little more patience, he could figure it out the next day. He needed to stop obsessing over it.</p><p><em>Relax,</em> he urged his body. <em>Just-</em></p><p>At the sound of a call coming from his bedside table he snagged his phone so quick that there were no what-ifs about it. She had completely gotten into his head, even if she did not realize it.</p><p>He braced himself for impact, trying to be ready for when he looked at the screen and would find Eren’s name across it like always. By the third ring, he gathered the will to look.</p><p>Mikasa.</p><p>“Hey,” he breathed into the receiver. There was a pause, and then her voice.</p><p>“Did I wake you up?”</p><p>He closed his eyes.</p><p>“No. Not at all.”</p><p>“I’m sorry it’s so late.”</p><p>She sounded different. Nervous.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it. Is everything alright?”</p><p>“I… hope so.”</p><p>His throat tightened and he squeezed the phone against his ear.</p><p>“Can I come over,” she asked, growing quieter at the other end.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>A flash of lightning lit up the room for a split second. He opened his eyes right as the thunder followed.</p><p>“Drive safe,” he added.</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>As soon as the line dropped, he shot out of bed and bee lined for the closet. Not that he needed a suit, but pants would be preferable. And a shirt. His mind raced.</p><p>Wind rustled the tree near his window and he forced himself to sit on the couch, pulling his knees to his chin and staring at a blank television screen across the room. Rain followed fast and soon the only sounds around him were fat drops of it against the window pane, claps of thunder, and his pulse in his ears.</p><p>He almost didn’t hear the knock.</p><p>The heavy rain continued just beyond the walkway where Mikasa stood, dripping and umbrellaless in his doorway. Her body drooped, unguarded in a way he had never expected to be privy to, and her eyes were soft.</p><p>Armin pulled her into his arms.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Very close...</p><p>I hope you all are enjoying. Thank you for reading and thank you for the really nice comments :)</p><p>I drafted a plan of Armin’s apartment and so here it is: </p><p> </p><p>  </p><p> </p><p>It's been stuck in my head a while so I finally put it on paper. In my head/this fic, Armin lives in this weird apartment building from the 80’s that got remodeled but still has funny things, like a step up to the sleeping/private area or the windowless kitchen. You can see where there might have been a compact dining table except for a certain creature collection. (Yeah, ok, I might’ve spent too much time thinking about this)</p><p>Anyhow, thanks again for reading. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Sunrise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa folded into Armin. He hugged her as if she deserved such a reception. </p>
<p>“I’m getting you wet, I’m sorry,” she apologized, although it was not the apology that she really meant to give.</p>
<p>“I don’t - Don’t worry about that. Are you ok? Do you,” He paused to look her over. “Do you want something dry?”</p>
<p>“Ok,” she mumbled, allowing him to lead her through the apartment. She waited for his open face to twist into a frown and demand she explain herself. Instead, he all but pushed her into the doorway of the bathroom. </p>
<p>“The, um - the hot water is backwards. If you wanted to take a warm shower.” </p>
<p>Armin piled clothes and a towel into her arms. </p>
<p>“I hope they’ll fit ok,” he rambled. “We can put yours in the dryer.”</p>
<p>Was this his way of hiding how he felt? It was close to midnight, she was dripping rain in his apartment, and all he had done was embrace her and offer her clothes. And then left her in his bathroom, the door to which was now closed and she was not even sure who had done that. </p>
<p>She dropped the bundle he had given her onto the counter and marched straight back out of the bathroom, impatient. Determined. Armin froze, eyes wide, with a damp wad of shirt in his hands. Not on his body. Mikasa took him in, unable to stop her raking gaze. </p>
<p>“Sorry. Sorry, I…” </p>
<p>She lost the thought. </p>
<p>“No, I was just - just got wet. You know.”</p>
<p>“No,” she tried again, brain jumping back to her objective in an attempt to brush past the fact of his bare torso. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”</p>
<p>His face softened, but he still held the shirt in front of him like a shield. </p>
<p>“Oh. Oh, don’t… It’s ok.”</p>
<p>Wasn’t he - How could he not be?</p>
<p>“Aren’t you mad,” she finally asked.</p>
<p>His grip tightened at the cloth. She should not be demanding his emotional status or holding him hostage in a state of undress. But she was unable to stop herself. </p>
<p>“I’m not mad, I just don’t know what you want,” he delivered in the next breath. </p>
<p>It stung even though she knew it must be true. Words swam haphazardly at the surface of her mind. She grasped the first one and threw it out before it could get away.</p>
<p>“You.”</p>
<p>His throat bobbed. Eyebrows knit together. </p>
<p>“What?” he whispered. </p>
<p>Her heart pounded in her ears. She took a step forward, finally daring to make contact. His sharp intake of breath shot right through her chest. His eyes slid closed. Clear eyes, no longer piercing her, as she held his face in her hands. She pressed a shaky kiss to his lips, wishing she could express it better. </p>
<p>He groaned into her mouth, fingers winding into her hair, body suddenly flush against hers. His reply was insistent in a way that she hadn’t expected. His lips parted and she gave in completely at the taste of him. Just as she began to feel unsteady, he held her there, unwavering. She slipped her hands down. Down his neck, his shoulders, then feeling the chill of his skin where her wet clothes stuck to his chest. If he was cold, he said nothing. </p>
<p>She was burning. </p>
<p>His eyes opened wide as she pulled away and peeled her shirt from her body, dropping it next to his, already abandoned on the floor. </p>
<p>“Mikasa…”</p>
<p>Perhaps that had been too much. She hadn’t really been thinking. Then wandering hands explored her damp skin, warming and soothing away the goosebumps that had risen. Armin watched himself work over each section, fingers tracing lines from her hips to her shoulders.</p>
<p>“I want to be with you, too,” she sighed. She was not going to make him squeeze information from her. She would make herself give it. Freely. For him.</p>
<p>“When did I…?” He sent her a questioning look, body pressed wonderfully into hers once more. “I mean, I do want that. I don’t remember saying out loud is all.”</p>
<p>Her heart lifted immeasurably to hear it from his own mouth. </p>
<p>“Eren told me,” she admitted</p>
<p>Armin’s eyes rolled. His lips brushed her shoulder.</p>
<p>“Of course he did,” he mumbled against her skin with no hint of surprise. “I guess it wasn’t really a secret though.” </p>
<p>Her mind spun at his easy admission. He simply melted further against her.</p>
<p>“But I’m glad you feel the same,” he breathed, sending warm air across her neck and a shudder down her spine. </p>
<p>Armin put some inches between them this time. </p>
<p>“Maybe… maybe we should get dressed.” </p>
<p>He stole a glance down before returning his face towards hers, embarrassment creeping onto his features. But she wanted him to look, and as much as she loved talking… </p>
<p>“Or not,” she suggested.</p>
<p>Something familiar turned the gears behind his eyes, but she knew she had never seen him look like that before.</p>
<p>“You know,” he ventured. There was a low tease in his voice and the mood shifted. “We don’t have to sleep on the couch.”</p>
<p>Her lips were back on his and her hands back on him and she ran her fingers down his skin until he made a noise for her. Then another. The feel of denim beneath her fingertips put a new ache in her chest. She had gotten the front of his pants damp with her own, still soaking. </p>
<p>“Don’t you own an umbrella,” he gasped against her cheek, as if thinking the same thing. </p>
<p>“Forgot it,” she mumbled. He gasped again when she nibbled experimentally at his neck. </p>
<p>“I s-see.” </p>
<p>She grinned at his stutter before pushing her offending pants down, shaking them from her ankles and relishing the fact that his hands found her hips right away. The bed grew nearer. </p>
<p>“Is this ok,” he asked. </p>
<p>Mikasa groped at his pants in reply. Firm fingers stilled hers. </p>
<p>“Tell me.”</p>
<p>Her breath hitched at the unexpected gruffness beneath his usually easy voice. His other hand sat dangerously low on her hips and his mouth was hot on her neck, but both were unmoving. </p>
<p>“Yes,” she breathed. Her hand was freed. She dragged him to the bed with an urgency. </p>
<p>Armin chuckled quietly, catching her off guard. </p>
<p>“Mikasa, I’m not going anywhere.”</p>
<p>She blinked once. Twice. </p>
<p>“Is it too fast?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t say that,” he answered, the corners of his lips tugging upwards. </p>
<p>She wasn’t sure what to do when he lifted her palm to his lips. And then her wrist. Her eyes fluttered shut. His weight pressed into her, a suggestion so enticing that she forgot how to worry. He hummed against her mouth with a fresh kiss. She arched into him. <i>More.</i></p>
<p>However, she got more than she bargained for. The heat of his mouth drifted lower. She peered down.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?”</p>
<p>Hands firm at her waist, his nose lifted from her stomach, he regarded her with a funny look. </p>
<p>“Do you want to stop,” he asked, confusion clear.</p>
<p>She might collapse at the sight of his pink cheeks and mussed hair. It was hard to swallow and her own cheeks were on fire. She looked away. Now was perhaps not the ideal time to explain to him that she had never actually… </p>
<p>“I don’t want to stop.” </p>
<p>… received.</p>
<p>Armin narrowed his eyes in suspicion for the briefest of moments. Her heart pounded when he resumed, slipping further away. His hands were tighter and his kisses firmer. He trailed slowly down her stomach. </p>
<p>Nervous excitement set in, as did the temptation to be embarrassed. He eased her underwear away, eyes leaving her only long enough to drop them to the ground. His breath trailed up one leg. She squeezed her eyes closed. </p>
<p>An unexpected sound escaped her at the brush of his tongue. He turned her thoughts to nothing and began dismantling the ball of tension in her stomach. She tentatively wound her fingers into his hair. The feeling that washed over her body was warm and fuzzy. Her head fell back with a quiet moan. She had never been particularly loud in bed, but now she couldn’t stop the noises from escaping.</p>
<p>Soon, she was struggling not to fist his hair as her body tightened. His thumbs anchored her hips and his motions grew more eager. Nobody had told her it could be so good. But he was showing her - pushing her - to the edge. Past the edge. </p>
<p>She muffled a cry in her arm. Her fingers fell limp from his hair. She gasped and reached, but he was already there. He laid kisses on her face and whispered all too innocently in her ear,</p>
<p>“Was that ok?” </p>
<p>A quiet scoff puffed out of her. He was too smart to not know, but she gave him an answer anyway. </p>
<p>“Mhm,” she groaned, twisting until he was beneath her. She unfastened his jeans and pulled down, past his narrow hips and abandoning his pants to the floor to commune with their counterparts. Her stomach clenched. </p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>She looked up, color hot in her cheeks. He gauged her with concern, but why he should be worried she didn’t know. </p>
<p>“You look good,” she let out. </p>
<p>His brow pinched together, as if he were about to protest. She slid her hands slowly up his legs and watched his face morph; felt the flex in his thighs. If he had anything left to say, it was lost in a quiet exhale. She lifted one leg and kissed Armin’s knee, enjoying every second.</p>
<p>She had every intention of turning him upside down in equal measure. He squirmed at her touch and even more at her mouth. She pushed his lifting hips back down to the bed and Armin moaned. Every inch she could reach, she did. As long as she could feel him and hear him.</p>
<p>He groaned quietly, stomach tense, then pulled suddenly at her. </p>
<p>“Come here,” he breathed. </p>
<p>“Is something wrong?” Worry pricked her as she came back level to his face. </p>
<p>“No, I - You were too far.”</p>
<p>He pulled her face down, moaning softly into her mouth and blurring the lines between their lips. She couldn’t help but roll her hips into his, feeling electric where he pushed between her legs. </p>
<p>“Can we?” he breathed. “Like this?”</p>
<p>Mikasa kissed his cheek, then his jaw. Then sucked at his neck and felt a new wave of heat pulse through her when he ground against her. She slid off him, off the bed, and crouched at her soggy pants to find what she was looking for. His eyes met hers with a question as she rose from the floor. And then he laughed.</p>
<p>“What,” she asked. </p>
<p>She knew he wasn’t laughing <i>at</i> her, she just didn’t know what was so funny. He groaned when she climbed back over his lap, but a smile still curled his wonderful lips. </p>
<p>“You weren’t sure if you wanted to see me, but you brought a condom?”</p>
<p>“I - ” Her voice caught in her throat. “I always wanted to see you.”</p>
<p>The smile faded as he pushed out a long breath. But, she supposed, it was a little funny. She bit her lip, unable to hold it back. A tiny grin worked itself onto her face. To be fair, Sasha had forced it into her pocket once having wrung it out of Mikasa where she was going at such a late hour. </p>
<p>She pushed it into Armin’s palm. He stared openly at her while his hands worked. When he reached for her, she fell into his arms and kissed him hungrily. </p>
<p>She rocked in response as he set the pace from beneath her. His moans echoed in her ears. His hands gripped her tight and she kissed him when she had the wherewithal to. First on his lips, but soon traveling across his face and jaw and lingering in any place that brought a sound out of him. When she could manage nothing more, she pressed her cheek into his and reeled at the sudden words falling from him. </p>
<p>He kissed her, hands clutching at her hips. Whispered that she was beautiful. Her head was spinning. She liked his praise more than she wanted to admit. His arms wrapped around her waist and he cried out.</p>
<p>“Mika-ah - ”</p>
<p>Excitement shot through her. He buried his face into her neck and her thoughts untangled themselves for the first time since he had kissed her. She slid her hand from his messy hair and collapsed beside him with loose limbs. He thumbed her jaw and gave her a peck that lingered, tingling all the way until he returned from the bathroom and the lights were shut off. There was a nudge at her side. </p>
<p>He immediately pushed his body against hers, head tucking into her shoulder while his arm slipped around her waist. His leg, still so bare, hooked over one of hers. A tightness formed in her chest, but it wasn’t the same anxiety she had grown used to finding there. Warmth spread through her. She counted down a few heartbeats, growing loudly in her chest. </p>
<p>“Armin?” </p>
<p>He shouldn’t have to ask. Honestly, she had meant to say something earlier, but then…</p>
<p>“Hm?” </p>
<p>She began to choppily explain.</p>
<p>“I was scared. I know that’s stupid and I know I should’ve called. Or said something Friday. Or Saturday.”</p>
<p>He dove in at her pause. </p>
<p>“It’s not stupid,” he reassured. </p>
<p>“Zeke was there. On the trip.” She heard Armin’s breath suck in, but he didn’t interrupt. “I know. It was a disaster at first. But I don’t know what happened, I found him hanging out with Eren. They were smoking and talking as if they hadn’t been fighting for two days straight - ”</p>
<p>“What?” Armin breathed.</p>
<p>“ - I know. But then he told us - Zeke told us - and I guess we had already guessed, but now we know and…”</p>
<p>“Know what,” he asked softly.</p>
<p>“Our dad was still with his mom. When he met our mom. And it always seemed close, but I didn’t want to think - it’s like,” she screwed her eyes shut, “does anyone <i>not</i> cheat?” </p>
<p>Of course, she knew the answer was logically yes, but it stung no less. She found herself wondering if she was always destined to find the same fate for herself. </p>
<p>Armin took her hand. </p>
<p>“Is that what happened? With you - I mean, I know you were with someone. Eren thought - ”</p>
<p>His line of questioning came to a halt. It was as if he had caught himself thinking out loud and a chill climbed her spine. </p>
<p><i>How?</i> </p>
<p>That’s what she wanted to ask. How did he piece it together so quickly? She spit out something else instead.</p>
<p>“What did Eren think?”</p>
<p>“Just… He didn’t say much. Only that he didn’t think much. Of him. Sorry, I shouldn’t have - ”</p>
<p>“No, you’re right.”</p>
<p>She trained her gaze to the ceiling. It didn’t feel half as good as she thought it would to let it out. Her stomach curled. Armin was going to see now that she had not been good enough. </p>
<p>But he tangled himself with her limbs and brought their foreheads together. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he soothed. His thumbs found her back and pushed tiny circles into it. She wasn’t sure what he was doing, but she liked it. </p>
<p>“I should have called. I thought maybe you didn’t want to see me, but I should’ve - ”</p>
<p>“No, I’m sorry. I told you I would. And I wanted to, really, I...”</p>
<p>“Don’t be  - don’t - you’re here now. I’m here. I promise, I won’t - I would never…” He trailed off, fingers pushing dents into her skin and forehead moving to rest heavy on her cheek. </p>
<p>“I know,” she whispered. She couldn’t truly know, but she had to believe it. Wanted to believe it. </p>
<p>“I’m glad you’re here,” he breathed into her ear. </p>
<p>“Me too.”</p>
<p>They stayed, entwined and unspeaking. Rain tapped against the window. What more was there to say? Armin shifted, pulling various limbs free and sinking into the mattress beside her. Mikasa stayed near, one arm holding him to her still. When he spoke, it cut through the sleep that had begun to settle over her. </p>
<p>“You really didn’t like me? Before?”</p>
<p>She hid her face against him and cringed, suddenly remembering that she had indeed drunkenly told him that. </p>
<p>“I didn’t know you.”</p>
<p>“I’m surprised Eren hasn’t given you my whole life story. He seems to be telling you all sorts of things.”</p>
<p>She snorted an unflattering little laugh and smiled. </p>
<p>“It’s amazing what he doesn’t say,” Armin continued. “Like how did I not know you were adopted?” </p>
<p>“That was kind of surprising,” she admitted. </p>
<p>“I did think you looked… different. I thought maybe you got a grandparent’s genes or something.” </p>
<p>Now she laughed for real. He had a way of making her feel so light. </p>
<p>“No, it’s just me. A random half Asian, planted into the family.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to say it.”</p>
<p>“Well it’s true.”</p>
<p>“Half?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Do you know your parents? I mean, sorry, I just mean - ”</p>
<p>“It’s ok, I know what you meant. But no. I don’t.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I’ve already got a family. Even if they’re kind of…” </p>
<p>“Fucked up?”</p>
<p>“I - yeah,” she laughed. “That’s one way to put it.”</p>
<p>“How’s Eren taking everything?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know, I think he got all his anger out on Zeke already. Or maybe he’s bottling it up. It’s hard to tell sometimes.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Armin repeated. He held her hand to his chest. She was grateful he didn’t press further. Truthfully, she would rather think about him and how he curved against her. That they were under his covers. That it felt too right to follow the worries in the back of her mind.</p>
<p>“Do you have work tomorrow?” he mumbled before yawning. </p>
<p>“In the afternoon.”</p>
<p>“The gallery?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I’m sorry for keeping you up so late.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Don’t be. I,” he cleared his throat, “It was…”</p>
<p>“I had a good time.” </p>
<p><i>Beyond good.</i> A wave of heat washed over her.</p>
<p>“Really good,” he agreed. </p>
<p>She tucked her face into the back of his neck.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Her eyes opened in what she would have sworn was the very next second if not for the morning light flooding the room. Her company was gone from the bed, but the sound of water running echoed from the bathroom. She sat up slowly, clutching his covers to her chest, just as Armin reappeared. </p>
<p>He smiled and tucked in his shirt as he neared the bed.  </p>
<p>“Good morning.”</p>
<p>“Morning,” she offered back with a small smile of her own. He perched himself beside her, barely leaning in, movements careful. Mikasa closed the distance for him. Her kiss was deeper than she had intended. He sank against her with a hum. When they parted, he was still catching his breath.</p>
<p>“I have to go. But I’ll talk to you later?” He reached, brushing stray hair from her face. “Oh, and your clothes are in the dryer. I think they’ll be done soon,” he added. </p>
<p>Warmth crawled all the way down to her toes. She barely recognized her own voice as it lilted with an obvious hopefulness.</p>
<p>“Are you busy tonight?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. New Flavor</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa’s naked journey from the bed to the bathroom was nothing less than awkward. Armin’s spare clothes remained where she had left them, on the counter, neatly folded. It seemed like a strange invasion when she slid the shirt over her head and the pants up to her waist. They pulled in the wrong ways, tight in odd places, and were altogether foreign.</p><p>There was a strangeness to inhabiting the space in his absence and it was not the same as when she had come on her own before. She had no feeding schedule to keep to, no insects to wrangle; no purpose but to wait and listen to the low tumble of the dryer behind a thin wall.</p><p>She wandered to the most familiar location and sank down, pulling a stray throw pillow into her lap. Armin had acted happy enough before he left, but doubt was finding its stubborn way into her thoughts. And yet…</p><p>She lifted the neck of his shirt and inhaled the aroma of detergent mixed with the smell of cotton that had been in a closet a touch too long. Still, he was there in the threads. Her eyes closed. The dryer buzzed its resignation, but she stayed another few inhales.</p><hr/><p>Mikasa dug into her bag, then laid the compact spiral-bound onto the table in front of him. Armin’s hand graced the cover, then paused. He spared a longing look at the sketchbook, but ultimately drew out his ringing phone and answered it.</p><p>“Out to eat.” Armin glanced at her and mouthed an ever familiar name before returning the speaker to his mouth “With Mikasa. By the music shop near your - yes you do. There’s a gelato - yeah. You are? No, I - I’ll ask her.”</p><p>“I don’t mind if he comes,” she supplied. Armin smiled, eyes not leaving her.</p><p>“Sure. Ok. See you.”</p><p>“Eren’s coming,” Mikasa hazarded to guess. Armin nodded.</p><p>“Should we, you know, say something to him,” he asked.</p><p>“I don’t think we have to say anything.”</p><p>Armin tensed. His fingers twitched once against the cover beneath them before he chose his next words.</p><p>“You don’t… want to?”</p><p>“No, it’s - ” She tried to send an apologetic look across the table. “He already thinks we’re seeing each other.”</p><p>Armin’s face softened. Then changed.</p><p>“Is that what you told him?”</p><p>What? Did he really think she had -</p><p>“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Armin chuckled weakly and smiled. She finally forced her muscles to relax and her back sank against the squishy diner booth cushion. That is, until Armin began scooting sideways. She eyed him suspiciously as he rounded the table.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>Her bench cushion puffed at his weight.</p><p>“Sitting next to you,” he answered matter-of-factly, dragging the sketchbook until it was in front of him again. “Eren said he wasn’t far. So, what’s in here?”</p><p>She swallowed. It was nearly as nerve wracking as finally hitting the call button had been the day before. But she had done it all the same, and so would she now because he was looking at her with those searching eyes.</p><p>“Plants.”</p><p>“Plants?”</p><p>“Drawings of plants I saw, on the trip. And a few bugs.”</p><p>“For what,” he asked, amusement creeping into his voice.</p><p>“I just thought - you watch all those documentaries and specials, and maybe you would want to see...”</p><p>She trailed off, embarrassed. It was silly.</p><p>“It’s for me?”</p><p>“Not the whole book,” she answered, anxiety picking at her.</p><p>“I know,” he said with a warm smile and a look she couldn’t place, but he was leaning in and she closed her eyes. His lips found hers in a soft way that made her stomach twist tightly. She had wanted to kiss him when he picked her up for dinner, but had held back. Now she leaned into it and wondered if it were real.</p><p>Eren cleared his throat.</p><p>Mikasa turned, searching for the sound while Armin looked away to the floor. Eren plopped down opposite them. She slid the sketchbook back into the bag, not particularly interested in sharing the work that was meant for Armin, who watched her put it away with an air of disappointment. Mikasa raised her eyebrows at Eren’s pursed lips, but their server came to take their orders before either of them could comment. Once their selections were collected, Armin’s hand landed on the table with a dull slap.</p><p>“Oh! I just remembered. You got a sale!”</p><p>Eren perked up.</p><p>“Sale?”</p><p>
  <em>Sale?</em>
</p><p>“For Mikasa’s website. It’s, um. Oh, it’s the black and white one. You know, with the…?” Armin turned to her. Watching him try to describe it, tracing in the air, brought a warmth through her limbs that she couldn’t place.</p><p>“Ok, you know,” he continued, “But yeah! I mean, you should’ve gotten an email, I don’t know if you saw it yet. Oh, and I - well I set it up to send notifications to me, too. I hope you don’t mind. It was, you know, just in case something went wrong. Or if you want help shipping it, or anything -”</p><p>“You’re selling your work?” Eren leaned into the table.</p><p>“It was Armin’s idea,” she revealed reluctantly. Even though, beneath the surface and against her will, excitement began to bloom as she began to process it. This was the sort of thing she had buried hope for early on. At most, she had assumed, she would find a deal with a publisher if she was lucky. Not that she had done even that much yet. But someone wanted this piece. This thing of her own making, printed copy as it may be.</p><p>“For how much,” Eren asked.</p><p>Mikasa could not even remember the prices, only that she had discussed them with Armin over wine and pizza one night. After all, could you put a price on -</p><p>“Thirty dollars,” Armin replied matter-of-factly. “Plus shipping.”</p><p>“What?” she hissed. For a <em>print?</em> Not that it was completely out of place, but for something of <em>hers?</em></p><p>“Yeah, don’t you remember?”</p><p>
  <em>No.</em>
</p><p>“That’s awesome. Like, shit, I bet you could make money if you got yourself out there. No more weird commissions from dad’s friends or whoever.”</p><p>Had Eren really noticed how little she liked those particular jobs?</p><p>“Bet you could go solo even,” Eren suggested through a mouthful of fries that had been lowered to the table not two seconds prior.</p><p>“I doubt that.”</p><p>Eren and Armin both sent her bewildered looks.</p><p>“Why not,” Armin asked, although his tone was surprisingly close to demanding.</p><p>“It’s only one person.” <em>Even if the profit was actually decent.</em> “Who says it isn’t a fluke? It probably won’t happen again.” <em>Was it possible another could sell?</em> “I don’t work at the gallery tomorrow, I can get the print done. Is all the information in the email?”</p><p>Who could it even be? Where? She had checked her website traffic once or twice, but it made her nervous to look at. Maybe she would ask Armin later. Who was currently looking at her like he had a thing or two to say. If he did, he kept it to himself, instead only saying,</p><p>“Yeah it’s there, but let me know if you have any issues.”</p><p>Eren was not quite so withholding.</p><p>“You should believe more in yourself, Mikasa. Why wouldn’t anyone else buy your stuff? It’s really good.”</p><p>She sat, stunned, not touching the food in front of her. Eren huffed and moved along to a so-so review of his sandwich. A squeeze on her hand startled her. It didn’t last long, but it was just enough to pull her back. She picked at her plate with mixed feelings.</p><p>“Did you hear me?”</p><p>She looked up at Eren’s expecting face.</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Do you want help? You know, marketing and all that.”</p><p>“It’s only really meant to be a portfolio.”</p><p>“Sure, but if Armin already set it up. I guess you’ll have to get legal if you start making actual cash, but hey, that’d be worth it. Do you want me to?”</p><p>“No,” she mumbled, “But thanks. Really, it’s fine. I just want a contract with a publisher, then I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Eren hmf’d, but he left it alone in lieu of smaller conversation. Mikasa spent most of dinner listening back and forth between him and Armin, if you didn’t count fielding the random questions Eren threw at her concerning her sales plans, or lack thereof. But there was a strange comfort there between the three of them that she had not expected.</p><p>Outside, after checks had been paid and tips calculated, Mikasa stood back balance on the curb stop while Eren talked too low for her to hear. Armin’s body stiffened. The car door slammed shut. He shuffled over to her as Eren pulled away.</p><p>“You could’ve told me about the hickey,” Armin mumbled, bringing his fingertips to the side of his neck. She peered closer and found it, not bright, but still undeniable. He shifted to lean against the side of the car.</p><p>“Maybe next time… somewhere less visible,” he mumbled.</p><p>Heat rose to her face then sank to her abdomen. Her eyes trailed down his collar and the memory of his moonlight washed skin was a perfectly clear picture in her mind. A next time.</p><p>“Do you want to do something else? You know, without your brother?” He gave a sheepish look at his little joke.</p><p>“Like what,” she asked tentatively. As enticing as it was, oddly phrased as it might have been, she was already so wrapped up Why had she let go so quickly... Did Armin think less of her now?</p><p>“Like, dessert?” He nodded towards a brightly lit gelato shop in the strip center. “Maybe you can show me. From earlier?” He pointed to her bag.</p><p>She took a deep breath. And she wondered if she had ever had control anyway.</p><p>“Ok.”</p><p>As they squeezed together beneath the spill of harsh fluorescent, paper cups in hand, she watched Armin thumb to the back of the sketchbook. Saw his finger pinpoint one of many of the items on the page. Heard the spikes of recognition when he came across something he could identify, which in itself seemed completely abnormal. But, she supposed, if anyone could…</p><p>“Do you want to do something this weekend?”</p><p>She slid the well-examined sketchbook back into the depths of her bag,</p><p>“Like what,” she asked, leaning an elbow into the crooked table. Armin mirrored her.</p><p>“I don’t know. Is there anything you want to do?”</p><p>Her head shook slowly. It didn’t matter much to her. Well, that was not entirely true. A vision crept into her mind. It was not the first time it had crossed her thoughts, but this was the only time yet that she had allowed it to stick.</p><p>She pictured them there, in his apartment, just like before - before she had left. Quiet, alone, and with his arms around her. She might gather the courage to ask him some of the questions she kept to herself.</p><p>“We can figure it out later. Here, try this.”</p><p>She looked up to find his frozen dessert held in front of her.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“You don’t have to,” he second guessed, but the thing was that she <em>wanted</em> to. What she was waiting for, she did not know.</p><p>Mikasa accepted the cup and spoon slowly. She held the cold on her tongue until it puddled into liquid. Armin watched with more intensity than a gelato tasting deserved. But, actually -</p><p>“It’s really good,” she admitted, passing his cup back. Then she slid hers toward him.</p><p>“Oh, I like this one,” he mumbled around his bite, jabbing the spoon in emphasis.</p><p>“Do you come here a lot?”</p><p>“Mm, sometimes.”</p><p>She reclaimed her original flavor. A light rain picked up outside. It had been on and off all day, as she had witnessed from behind the gallery desk.</p><p>“Mikasa?”</p><p>Alarm bells rang at the way he said her name. This was the moment. She had been too rash. She met his gaze and steeled herself. His hand covered hers. She blinked in confusion at his pleasant expression.</p><p>“I’m glad you called.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. We</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa knocked a second time. Where was he?</p>
<p>As she contemplated calling, there was a tremor beneath her feet. She turned in time to see an out of breath Armin clamber up the final steps at the end of the walkway. He gave her a weak wave before plastering a hand to his side. </p>
<p>“Sorry,” he gasped, “Sorry. Late meeting. Shit, I’m -” Another gulp of air. “I’m out of shape.” Then he mumbled something about ‘embarrassing’ and practically fell through the front door. </p>
<p> “Do you want a hand with something,” she asked, reaching for the bag that was clearly falling off his shoulder. He dodged, catching it at the last minute.</p>
<p>“I got it,” he said with more tone and slightly less heavy breathing. She shrugged and made her way to the kitchen to begin their newest adventure. They were going to make their own food for once. </p>
<p>It had been Armin’s idea, after she had hummed indecisively over the phone in regards to three different restaurant suggestions. After all, not being at his apartment was in direct opposition to her silent fantasy to have him to herself. Of course, apparently now that his website services were not being exchanged, he was no longer content to have her buying their dinner. </p>
<p>“Wine?” he offered, already pulling a bottle of red from the back of the counter. He had correctly identified which one she preferred and seemed to have one or two bottles in his apartment at all times. It was strange to her that he might go out of his way to do so, but she couldn’t deny that it was a good feeling. And even though she considered telling him he didn’t have to, she kept that to herself for fear that he might stop. Although, she couldn’t resist commenting on it, if tangentially.</p>
<p>“Do you even like wine very much,” she challenged, not quite finding the line between joke and giving herself away. He smiled and set a glass down in front of her.</p>
<p>“It’s growing on me. But I bought it for you.” </p>
<p>She was slowly becoming less shocked at his open admissions, but it still brought heat to her cheeks. As did the way he was nearing her. Mikasa would say that she had forgotten what it was like to have someone look at her like he was in that moment. That, however, would only be true if anyone had <i>ever</i> held her under such an intense gaze. She bent her neck, tentative and slow; unsure where the line was anymore. Or had they mowed the line right over? </p>
<p>Armin didn’t share her concern about lines, she concluded, as he pushed himself into her kiss. She lost track of what exactly she was worrying over as his fingers pressed into her waist. When he began to pull away, she found herself pulling him back in for another. </p>
<p>She felt his low laugh against her lips as he parted from her.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Nothing, just -” his hands busied themselves handing her things from the fridge. She accepted the task before he even had to ask. He turned toward her. “You surprise me.” </p>
<p>She could say the exact same thing. Instead, she asked,</p>
<p>“Is that good or bad?”</p>
<p>He shut the fridge and half answered.</p>
<p>“It’s surprising.” </p>
<p>She raised an eyebrow, but he was suddenly near again and she began to wonder if he knew how he made her lose her train of thought so easily. </p>
<p>“I like this,” he breathed, pulling her into a hug. “I like you.”</p>
<p>“I like you, too,” she found herself saying with an ease she could never have foreseen. The week had been full of second guessing and waiting, but something felt too right now that she was there with him. </p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>
  <i>What?</i>
</p>
<p>“What do you mean,” she asked carefully. </p>
<p>“I - I don’t know why you’re interested in someone like me.”</p>
<p>She could hardly believe what she was hearing. </p>
<p>“Like you?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, you - you’re so - ”</p>
<p>“So what?”</p>
<p>He pulled away from her, searching her face.</p>
<p>“Talented. And beautiful and… and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t get winded jogging for two seconds.”</p>
<p>She didn’t like at all where this was going. </p>
<p>“Don't say that.”</p>
<p>“That you’re ta-”</p>
<p>“No, you say it like you’re not.”</p>
<p>He shied back and busied himself with a cutting board and avoiding looking at her.</p>
<p>“Sorry. Just a long day, I guess.”</p>
<p>She wasn’t sure what to say, but she had to try. </p>
<p>“You’re all of those things. And if you’re worried about the running thing, that’s easy.”</p>
<p>“Talented and beautiful?” he muttered, but she saw the corners of his lips tug.</p>
<p>“Or handsome. I don’t know, all of it.” Truthfully, she would say a little bit of both. And if she wanted him to understand, she knew she was going to have to give away something closer to the vest. “I couldn’t stop watching you. That first night.” </p>
<p>Whether for looks or for the fact that she was, for whatever reasons she was never able to place, impossibly drawn to him, it was an honest admission. </p>
<p>Disappointment plunged in her stomach to see his face cloud over worse than before.</p>
<p>“Now you’re just saying things.”</p>
<p>She bristled at that. </p>
<p>“Do you think I just say things?”</p>
<p>He stopped what he was doing and raised his head. It was only the two of them, then. No kitchen, no occasional cricket chirp, no wine. Only a passing understanding, and perhaps, Mikasa realized, the closest she had ever been to him. What walls had he been holding up this whole time, skillfully disguised behind open smiles? </p>
<p>“No,” he admitted. And it was over. </p>
<p>The world set back in motion, but they stood closer and talked easier than they had before. She laughed when he cried halfway through mincing onion. Then he laughed when it got to her, too. Despite the incredibly simple stir fry recipe they had agreed should be achievable between the two of them, dinner took twice as long as it should have to make its way onto actual plates. She could blame the wine, but the truth was that it was hard to focus on vegetables or rice when Armin was right there instead. </p>
<p>“Impatient,” he teased after she stole a particularly long kiss. She handed him his plate, not denying his accusation. </p>
<p>They sank to the couch and their old routine bent around their new shape. It still made her heart beat too fast when his thigh rested against hers. The blanket straddled the back of the couch for now, but she was sure it would come into play like it always did. There was reassurance in the continuation of such things. His computer sat open, another familiar sight, as he set to addressing the next highlight of the evening. </p>
<p>“Two more sales,” he narrated, pointing at the evidence on screen. She could only stare, even now. In a burst of excitement she had even barged into Sasha’s room earlier that day when the most recent order had chimed a notification on her phone. Notifications, which she had only turned on after the sale before that. </p>
<p><i> “People are buying my stuff,” </i> she had told Sasha in a daze. </p>
<p><i> “Of course they are. Remind me to thank your boyfriend for making you do that, by the way.” </i> </p>
<p>Mikasa hadn’t even begrudged Sasha’s commentary at the time. </p>
<p>Armin’s face was a beacon of ‘I told you so’ that made her roll her eyes. He only smiled wider. </p>
<p>“We could ship them in the morning,” he suggested. </p>
<p>“We?”</p>
<p>“If - Oh, I mean, only if you want to.”</p>
<p>There was a strange pleasure in seeing his cheeks gain color. </p>
<p>“So I’m staying the night?” she pushed, growing bolder in her good mood. </p>
<p>“If you want,” he breathed. </p>
<p>“You’d like that,” she murmured, wanting so much to hear him say it. </p>
<p>“I would like that… Yes.”</p>
<p>Her lips found his neck, this time with more care to not leave a mark. </p>
<p>“Is that why you asked me to your fancy work dinner?” </p>
<p>His answer was so clear, so sincere. </p>
<p>“No. I just wanted you to go with me.” </p>
<p>She really let him have it for that one, mouth trailing until she found his collar bone. How dare he make her head spin with an answer like that? Now she <i>was</i> going to leave a mark. He groaned, making her dizzier. </p>
<p>“Is this why you didn’t want to go anywhere?” he rasped out. </p>
<p>Busted. </p>
<p>She sat back, a real blush setting in. God, he was going to think she was some sort of thirsty miscreant. </p>
<p>“Could’ve just said so,” he mumbled in her ear. </p>
<p>Her phone chimed and at this point she was ready to embarrass Eren out of interrupting them for once. Then again, she should have put it on silent by now. But her jaw nearly dropped when she saw what it was really over. Armin leaned in, curiosity taking hold.</p>
<p>“What is it,” he asked. She read it, disbelieving. </p>
<p>“I - Maybe it’s a mistake. I don’t know, it’s on the website email.”</p>
<p>“Can I see?”</p>
<p>She handed it over, suddenly theorizing that she could be in an incredibly good dream. Either that, or something <i>terrible</i> was going to come along and shove her off the mountain in the near future. Anxiety and silent giddiness alike churned in her stomach. Armin had probably read the email three times over by the time he looked up. </p>
<p>“A commission.”</p>
<p>Suspicion joined in on the emotional cocktail she had brewing. Was it a prank? But who? And why? </p>
<p>“But there’s not an option for that or. I mean, how?”</p>
<p>Armin shrugged. His eyes narrowed slightly as he skimmed the message once more. Well, if even <i>he</i> thought it was odd, what better proof?</p>
<p>“I don’t know, but they’re asking if you’ll take one. Did you… Have you been posting about this somewhere?” </p>
<p>His voice dripped confusion. He had more than learned her aversion to social media by now, even if he had expressed his disagreement with her refusal to self promote. </p>
<p>“No,” she assured him. She most certainly had not.</p>
<p>“Maybe Sasha, then?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Mikasa considered, but it seemed unlikely. Sasha had been so consumed by her work lately, Mikasa thought it unlikely she had carved out time to run a side promotion. </p>
<p>“Well. Congratulations,” Armin said with cheer, holding his glass up. She toasted lazily, her mind still caught up in the new information. </p>
<p>“Should I do it,” she asked after a long pause. Armin was incredulous when he said,</p>
<p>“Why wouldn’t you?”</p>
<p>She bit her lip. This was… This was, wow. She nodded and mumbled an ‘ok,’ trying not to betray the hope that had sparked itself. If she could smother it, she would, but she clearly was incapable of such things. </p>
<p>She shuddered at Armin’s hand brushing her arm. <i>Clearly.</i></p>
<p>“Alright. So you’ll show me how you do the print in the morning?”</p>
<p>“I don’t <i>do</i> it,” she explained, wary that he might be overestimating her skills. “I get copies made. It’s easy.”</p>
<p>“Ok, still. Hey, have you considered putting any originals for sale?” </p>
<p>He said it as if she had ever considered putting anything up for sale before he had brought it up in the first place.</p>
<p>“Not really.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess you might not want to part with them? I mean, I have some of my mom’s unsold work, but I couldn’t bear to let it go.”</p>
<p>There it was. Another unexpected window, opened to her. Mikasa was sure this was privileged information. Private, even if Armin was trying to pass it off as conversational. Her chest hurt at his weak smile. </p>
<p>“They must be really beautiful, like the one here,” she chose to say. He glanced at her hand so quickly she almost missed it. Then he looked at the lone piece on his wall.</p>
<p>“They are.” </p>
<p>Mikasa took his hand. </p>
<p>“Where are they,” she asked, glancing around the apartment even though she knew they couldn’t possibly be anywhere in the compact place. </p>
<p>“Storage unit,” he clipped. Then added, at her look of brief horror, “Climate controlled. But, I - I really should sort it out.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“She wasn’t a very organized person. Hardly ever catalogued anything. She said she would rather keep painting than bother.” Fondness colored his voice, but nosedived in the next breath. “So when she got sick I didn’t really push it. And I haven’t made it back to do it myself.”</p>
<p>Mikasa sat very still, the only movement coming from Armin’s hand as he laced his fingers into hers. She decided to risk asking more.</p>
<p>“What was she like?”</p>
<p>“Besides disorganized?” Armin borrowed some courage from his wine glass. “Always smiling. And nice. I don’t even know if she ever yelled at me.”</p>
<p>“What could you possibly do to get yelled at?” Mikasa commented, finding it difficult to believe he was much of a trouble maker. </p>
<p>“Oh, um. Well, I sort of burned a hole in our carpet once. Not on purpose, just, uh, you know how they tell us about the magnifying glass thing?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Right. Not meant for a living room.”</p>
<p>Mikasa stifled a laugh. </p>
<p>“Then there was the bird.”</p>
<p>“Bird?”</p>
<p>“It crashed into the window, so I snuck it in. Thought I could help it. But I guess it was ok because the next day it escaped from my room and flew right into her studio. Feathers got everywhere and I thought she was going to kill me. She just laughed. I mean, I was like fourteen, but she would bring it up and every few months and still laugh about it. Even in the hospital. I don’t even know why she thought it was so funny.”</p>
<p>Armin had somehow come to rest against Mikasa by the end of his retelling. She tried to picture a young version of him with a wild bird loose as she leaned her head into his. When she took a breath with a new question lined up, he spoke before she could. </p>
<p>“Let’s watch a movie or something.”</p>
<p>She released her air and quietly agreed to his change of pace. Through the movie they migrated until she got her wish and found herself in a position not dissimilar to how she had woken up, hungover, in the small hours of the morning only a week before. Inconsequential comments were passed back and forth until they weren’t. Her muscles felt limp and she wasn’t sure it was that sort of night anymore, and so she shook Armin awake as the credits rolled.</p>
<p>“Hey,” she tried. He only hummed. </p>
<p>“You should go to bed.”</p>
<p>Armin didn’t miss her meaning. One eye squinted open. </p>
<p>“You’re not going to stay?”</p>
<p>“I…” It was tempting, but she knew she couldn’t if she didn’t feel like it. Shouldn’t. It was the least she could learn from the past. </p>
<p>“I don’t think I’m in the <i>mood,”</i> she forced herself to admit, trying to ignore the pang of misplaced guilt. Armin rolled tighter into her.</p>
<p>“Who said anything about that?”</p>
<p>And so she accepted his offer of pajamas and an unopened toothbrush, which she thought suspiciously convenient, continuously holding back the numerous concerns that tried to plant themselves in her thoughts. Because they couldn’t compete with the intoxicating warmth of his arm across her waist as he drifted back out of consciousness. Could it really hurt, for one night, to allow the day to have been a good one?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's fluff. It's talk. It's fluff talk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Caught in the middle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mikasa's website has continued to gain attention. Armin and Mikasa close in on an explanation. Sasha has news.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I could create an option for it. What do you think?”</p>
<p>Armin leaned into her side, eyes on the laptop. Sasha sent a suggestive look that Mikasa chose to ignore. His hand brushed her thigh, then lingered, and a warmth crawled across her face. As if she hadn’t been staying once a week at his apartment. Or as if Sasha didn’t already know that. Still, Mikasa shrank to think of the ammo Sasha was gathering by bearing witness. </p>
<p>While Mikasa was caught up over it, Armin was opening at least five more tabs and actually being productive. Then, she was distracted again. His fingers were gone from her leg, working quickly across the keyboard. He stared, brow knit, face washed in pale blue. Adding to her fretting, Mikasa remembered once again the face he had worn the moment he had stepped into their “studio.”</p>
<p>“Mikasa?”</p>
<p>He cast a sideways look. She returned to the present, but only to answer his question with another.</p>
<p>“Why are there more?”</p>
<p>“Because you’re awesome, Mika,” Sasha answered without pause. Under his breath, Armin’s near silent agreement made her chest constrict immediately. </p>
<p>“Yeah, <i>Mika.”</i></p>
<p>He was just repeating Sasha, she told herself when her pulse jumped. </p>
<p>“Be reasonable,” Mikasa chastised them, “It makes no sense. Sasha, are you sure - ”</p>
<p>“Yes! Not that I wouldn’t, I would. I will now, too. But, no, I haven’t.”</p>
<p>“But somebody must be doing something,” Mikasa concluded out loud. </p>
<p>Armin sat up suddenly.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“He’s going to think we’re ambushing him.”</p>
<p>Armin glanced over his shoulder. </p>
<p>“We sort of are.”</p>
<p>Eren’s face was passive for someone who was finding two people on his step that evening on such incredibly short notice. Ushered into the kitchen, Eren looked between them. “So… is everything ok?”</p>
<p>Mikasa was going to get straight to the point, but Armin responded first.</p>
<p>“Fine. It’s fine. It’s - You know, Mikasa’s been getting a lot of traffic on the website.”</p>
<p>Eren picked at his sleeve, not quite meeting Armin’s gaze.</p>
<p>“That’s good.” </p>
<p>Armin stared, arms crossed. Eren pursed his lips once he saw and shifted to mirror his body language. It didn’t seem like the first time they had exchanged this type of silent argument. </p>
<p>“Jesus,” Eren muttered, hands raising defensively. “I was trying to help, that’s all. But look, Mikasa.” He faced her. “It’s going well, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Yes. But she didn’t know what else to say except,</p>
<p>“I didn’t ask you to.”</p>
<p>“I know.” </p>
<p>She let her arms unwind at that. He took it as an overly positive sign, regaining determination in his face. </p>
<p>“I thought I could get you some exposure, was all. You really aren’t using social media to your advantage, you know. I could be, like, your media guy,” he offered into the long pause, glancing again between her and Armin. </p>
<p>She resisted the urge to back away. </p>
<p>“Why?” </p>
<p>“What do you mean, <i>why?</i> To help you. Armin, tell her.” Eren’s tone was bordering on frustrated. Finally. It was almost relieving to have her expectations met. Had she driven it this way on purpose?</p>
<p>Armin froze save for a bare shake of his head. His eyes darted nervously to Mikasa. </p>
<p>“I don’t need help,” she pushed back. </p>
<p>“What if you do?” Eren ground out, “Why are you being so fucking stubborn? Armin - ”</p>
<p>“Don’t look at me,” Armin squeaked, hands wringing the top of a dining chair. </p>
<p><i>“You’re</i> being stubborn. I didn’t ask for help.”</p>
<p>“It’s an opportunity! Why can’t you just take it?”</p>
<p>She ducked her face. Something frustrated and hot burned in her throat and threatened her composure. How could she sit there - stand there - and let them do this for her? Rather, why couldn’t she have done better herself? She heard Eren’s huff and retreating footsteps, which somehow made it worse. </p>
<p>There was a whisper of a touch on her back. She tilted her head up out of surprise more than anything. Armin’s concern only added to the lump in her throat and she didn’t understand what was so difficult about any of it. </p>
<p>“You think Eren is right,” she half asked, half accused under her breath. </p>
<p>“Mikasa,” he sighed. His fingers stopped combing across her spine, instead pushing his hair haphazardly from his forehead and anchoring there. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean? Of course it does.”</p>
<p>He reluctantly opened his eyes and let his hand fall. </p>
<p>“Not really. It’s your work.” </p>
<p>“And what if I don’t want Eren’s help?”</p>
<p>If she had been trying to get a rise out of Armin, and maybe in a way she was, it fell flat. He stepped closer. </p>
<p>“Then tell him to stop,” he suggested softly.</p>
<p>“So that’s it?” Try as she might, she delivered her question with no bite whatsoever. Armin’s fingers found hers. “You’re fine with whatever I do?”</p>
<p>“That’s it,” he repeated. “Although, I don’t know that it will be that easy with Eren.”</p>
<p>She tried to cling to the earlier sensation of irritation, but it was slipping away. Before she knew it, he had her turned around, quite literally, and was pulling her out of the kitchen. Eren regarded their entrance into the living room with a wary look, but no more mention of marketing tactics or Mikasa’s personal inability to employ them. </p>
<p>“You guys want to hang out? It’s been a while. You know, since,” he nodded their way. Armin shrank guiltily at her side. </p>
<p>“I mean, I’m free.”</p>
<p>Mikasa nodded quickly at the glance Armin sent her way. </p>
<p>“Cool.”</p>
<p>Eren’s tone might have played it off successfully, if not for the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“I never asked him,” Mikasa recounted to Sasha. </p>
<p>“God, what a struggle, getting free, unsolicited marketing.” Sasha snorted. “You know, I had to work really hard to get stuff out there,” she added. “Connie helped, too, you know that. And so did you.” </p>
<p>Mikasa wouldn’t call putting flyers up much help in comparison to Connie’s efforts, but she could perhaps concede that she saw Sasha’s point. Guilt and a vague suspicion that she might have overreacted settled in Mikasa’s gut. </p>
<p>“A lot is happening right now,” she quietly admitted. </p>
<p>Sasha elbow crawled her way up the bed. </p>
<p>“If you ask me - ”</p>
<p>“I didn’t.”</p>
<p>Sasha’s short bubble of a laugh made Mikasa break into a stiff smirk. </p>
<p>“If you ask <i>me,</i> you should go for it. I’d kill for a free marketing person.”</p>
<p>“Of course you would say that,” Mikasa muttered. </p>
<p>“What does Armin think?”</p>
<p>“Armin - ” Armin had dropped her off with an achingly soft kiss goodbye, but continued to withhold his opinion on the matter. “He won’t say.”</p>
<p>Sasha looked up with a glint in her eye.</p>
<p>“Speaking of. What are you doing <i>here</i> tonight?” </p>
<p>“What do you mean? I was just there last night.”</p>
<p>Mikasa was met with a shake of Sasha’s head.</p>
<p>“So?”</p>
<p>“So, I. I don’t want to be… suffocating.” </p>
<p>She was trying not to repeat mistakes, after all. She was unsure of where the metric had come from exactly, but somehow managed to never stay over more than once in a given week.</p>
<p>“He didn’t look very suffocated to me,” Sasha teased. </p>
<p>Mikasa only shrugged and picked mindlessly at a hangnail. </p>
<p>“Fine. While you figure all <i>that,”</i> Sasha wiped a circle into the air, “out, I have news.”</p>
<p>“Bad news?”</p>
<p>“Why do you always assume it’s bad news? No, it’s good!”</p>
<p>Mikasa leaned forward. It was Sasha who seemed antsy now, a rare sight. </p>
<p>“I. Am. Going - ” </p>
<p>Sasha squealed before she could even finish the sentence. Connie appeared in the open door. </p>
<p>“I can hear you from my room.”</p>
<p>Sasha jumped off the bed, thumbs turned theatrically inwards and with no apology whatsoever about having disturbed him.</p>
<p><i>“This</i> girl is going across the pond.”</p>
<p><i> “What?”</i> Mikasa hissed.</p>
<p>Connie’s excitement for Sasha was palpable.</p>
<p>“You got into the residency!”</p>
<p>She met his hug with another squeal, something Mikasa had seen on who knew how many occasions. </p>
<p>What she had never seen, however, was the lightning quick peck Sasha pressed to Connie’s cheek before bounding away. In her wake, she left a statue of Connie. His eyes were frozen wide, staring in the direction she had left. Mikasa fared not much better, unable to muster anything but a confused, slow blink when Connie eventually turned his head towards her. He tried to walk away, swearing when he stumbled against the door frame.</p>
<p>Mikasa easily dodged the wall, finding Sasha planted predictably at her easel, furiously adding to a rather frantic piece. Fitting. And tempted as Mikasa was to ask about what the hell just happened, she had more pressing questions.</p>
<p>“When do you leave?”</p>
<p>“A week,” Sasha sang. Mikasa sucked in her breath.</p>
<p>Sasha laughed, spinning away from the canvas. </p>
<p>“Don’t look at me like that, I’ll be back before you know it. It’s a short program, you know that.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Mikasa said, secretly appalled that Sasha had been so quick to sense that she would in fact, and greatly, miss her. Even if it <i>was</i> a short program.</p>
<p>As Sasha returned, brush suspended in midair, Mikasa blurted out,</p>
<p>“We should celebrate.”</p>
<p>Sasha lit up, smile bright.</p>
<p>“Tonight?”</p>
<p>Why not, Mikasa supposed. </p>
<p>“Yeah, tonight.”</p>
<p>“Yes! Oh, we should see if Connie wants to come. Connie!”</p>
<p>Mikasa cringed at the shout in her ear. </p>
<p>“Stop yelling, I’ll get him. And you got paint on your face.” </p>
<p>“Shit, again?” </p>
<p>Mikasa smiled all the way to the bathroom cabinet and then to Connie’s door.</p>
<p>“Come in,” came his muffled call. </p>
<p>He was perched on a chair, staring at nothing. </p>
<p>“We’re going for drinks, do you want to come?”</p>
<p>Connie wrung his hands.</p>
<p>“Drinks. Yeah. Sure. I’ll be right there.”</p>
<p>He spied the bag of cotton pads in Mikasa’s hand.</p>
<p>“What are those for?”</p>
<p>“Hm?” She looked down reflexively. “Oh. Sasha got paint on her face again.”</p>
<p>Connie swallowed and looked away, almost inaudible when he said,</p>
<p>“Of course she did.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Anything</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mikasa has a realization. Or two.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Richard. Dick for short.”</p><p>Armin laughed and nudged her shoulder.</p><p>“No,” he refused with a grin.</p><p>“Suit yourself.”</p><p>“Ok, seriously?”</p><p>Mikasa eyed the plastic carrier in Armin’s hand. The newest addition-to-be crawled lazily in temporary substrate, licked its own eyeball, then stared into space. She stalled, giving the question actual thought.</p><p>“Jim?” she tried awkwardly.</p><p>Armin brought possibly-Jim eye level.</p><p>“Are you a Jim?”</p><p>Mikasa bit her lip. His smile was as blinding as ever, if only her stomach didn’t plummet when she realized it wasn’t aimed at her.</p><p>“You’re back,” he exclaimed.</p><p>“I’m back! I thought I heard you over here.”</p><p>Mikasa’s eyes flicked back and forth between Armin and the very <em>cheerful</em> woman standing in the aisle suddenly.</p><p>“How was your trip?”</p><p>“Good, good. Really good! I’ve been back a while, but they changed my schedule, you know? But it’s nice to see you.”</p><p>Mikasa knew she was being an assortment of things, petty among them, when she stared blankly back in response to the quick grin directed her way.</p><p>“Hanna,” they introduced with an awkward wave. Mikasa took long enough that Armin answered for her.</p><p>“This is Mikasa.”</p><p>“Mikasa. Nice to meet you!”</p><p>Armin was regarding Mikasa with worry at this point, but she could hardly explain to him the million thoughts that had flooded her. Her pride was fighting expertly against reason, side by side with what she could only call a feeling short of paranoia. It was an impossible clash, until she caught sight of Armin’s fallen face and it all gave way to guilt. Mikasa’s hand shot out and she gave a renewed effort.</p><p>“Nice to meet you.”</p><p>That was all it took to elicit a fresh smile and quick hand shake from Hanna before she turned back to Armin.</p><p>“Crickets?”</p><p>Armin perking up soothed a small part of Mikasa.</p><p>“Yes, please. The usual. You know.”</p><p>“Sure. See you up front!”</p><p>Mikasa glanced away guiltily, Hanna having long disappeared by the time she finally lifted her gaze. She was an adult, seeing an adult, so what was she acting like a jealous teenager for? Where was her composure or her self control or -</p><p>“So, Jim?”</p><p>Armin gently lifted apparently Jim with a crinkle in the corners of his eyes. It began to set in that he had no intention of reprimanding her questionable introduction skills or the obvious, at least obvious to herself, moment of weakness. He didn’t know anything about the pieces her brain tried to shove together.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>“You don’t want to tell me?”</p><p>“Sorry,” she muttered, not exactly keen to be falling apart in the middle of a pet store. “We should go.”</p><p>“Ok,” he said without a question, leaving her unsure if she felt better or worse. Of course she could trust him; of course she was seeing things. How could she consider otherwise? He led her through tiny, cramped aisles of supplies. His stream of chatter concerning Jim’s tank set up was a perfect distraction and she wondered if he knew that or if he was simply getting ahead of himself.</p><p>She made a point to say goodbye as they departed the cluttered check out counter and if Hanna had taken any offense to Mikasa’s initial tentativeness, she didn’t show it. Outside, they made it one block before he tried again.</p><p>“Is everything ok?”</p><p>Mikasa shrugged, hands deep in her jacket pockets. The weather was warming as a whole, but that day had decided it was an exception. Why couldn’t one thing stay the same anymore? Armin’s hand closed around her elbow.</p><p>“Mikasa,” he urged. She stopped, feet planted on the concrete and body tense.</p><p>Her “I’m fine,” might have been more convincing if her tone didn’t pitch the way it did. If she could look him in the eye.</p><p>“Will you please talk to me? Did I do something?”</p><p>In one arm he cradled the carrier from the store, but his other hand remained touching her as if he feared she would bolt. Though, she <em>could</em> outrun him.</p><p>No. She was really losing it, wasn’t she? Mikasa wished suddenly that Sasha wasn’t a multiple time zone, internet required, video call away. She didn’t want to tell Armin; didn’t want him to know that she had lost faith and over something so small. Especially not after it had been, what? One?</p><p>No, two? Her head spun. It couldn’t be three months.</p><p>She shoved fingers into her hair and closed her eyes.</p><p>“It’s not your fault.”</p><p>Her voice was weak in her own ears. Eyes open, she surveyed the not so empty street; remembered Armin’s newest charge in a tiny, plastic pen.</p><p>“We should get back,” she suggested.</p><p>It was a quiet walk that had her heart splitting. She had grown used to, she now realized, the way he pointed things out when they walked together. Or how he always seemed to have a next thing to say. She considered how she had memorized all his apartment codes and keys and light switches and that refusing to stay two nights in a row had done virtually nothing to slow his affect on her. When he set his things down it was all she wanted to be in his arms and her resolve was whittling into nothing. It took the last of what she had to insist he finish setting up the newest tank and stand by, well pace, until the tiny door clasped closed and it only took one brush of his hand for her to crumble.</p><p>She felt stripped raw when she spoke, a naked sensation far exceeding any time she had shared his bed, not even the first time. This could be it. He might realize how flawed she was after all.</p><p>“I was jealous. I’m sorry. I said I trusted you. I promised - ” She had promised herself, at least, that she would talk to him. Admittedly, she had shoved it all from her mouth so quickly, perhaps he had not understood any of it. Mikasa bit back tears that might only be more pathetic.</p><p>He grasped her hands.</p><p>“Are you always this hard on yourself?” he demanded, squeezing with a surprising grip.</p><p>What was she supposed to say to something like that? She wasn’t being hard, she was being -</p><p>“I’m just being honest,” she deflected.</p><p>He pulled her closer, fingers almost digging into her palms.</p><p>“That’s bullshit.”</p><p>“I - excuse me?”</p><p>“You think I wouldn’t understand? After what you told me?”</p><p>“I was rude. To your friend.”</p><p>“You weren’t rude, you were just quiet!”</p><p>She blinked in shock, the threatening tears replaced instantly by a strange urge to break out laughing at Armin, losing his cool over this of all things. How she knew that he wasn’t mad at her, that the exasperation in his voice was at her self destructing, well she didn’t know. He hmf’d when she grabbed his face and tugged his lips to hers.</p><p>“Are you going to kiss me every time we have a disagreement?”</p><p>Mikasa answered that with another, teeth catching his lip until he groaned and broke away.</p><p>“Mikasa. We need to talk about things. We need to talk about this.”</p><p>“I’ll talk,” she breathed before kissing him again.</p><p>“This isn’t - talking - ” he panted between her efforts.</p><p>“I want to lie down with you.”</p><p>They both paused, eyes locked. Mikasa tried to recall if she had ever flat out asked him for something like that. At least, verbally asked.</p><p>“Ok,” he said softly, thumb brushing her cheek. A hint a sternness returned when he followed it up with,</p><p>“But we’re going to talk.”</p><p>His chest was warm under her cheek, firm beneath the soft t-shirt that she rolled mindlessly between her fingers in an attempt to distract herself.</p><p>“You know I only want to date you,” he murmured into her hair after she explained.</p><p>“I… know.”</p><p>“If you had told me, maybe I could’ve helped.”</p><p>“No,” she disagreed.</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“I was in my head.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>A shyness took hold in her chest and burned in her cheeks when he tilted her chin up towards him. He could take lead when he felt so inclined. She liked those moments.</p><p>“Are you going to tell me you have to leave now?”</p><p>She licked her lips and regarded him with suspicion.</p><p>“Why,” she asked, drawing it out long and low.</p><p>“You never stay twice.”</p><p>She narrowed her eyes, but hardly out of surprise. His observational skills were a pro and a con at times.</p><p>“I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”</p><p>It sounded far less believable there, nestled beside him, than it had when she had suggested as much to Sasha weeks ago.</p><p>“Is that what you think would happen?”</p><p>She didn’t answer.</p><p>“It’d be cruel to leave now.” He drew nearer. “You’re already here with me.”</p><p>“Life’s not fair,” she whispered. He hummed.</p><p>“It’s not so bad right now.”</p><p>She gave the slightest shake of her head, hair rustling against his pillow. Not so bad at all.</p><p>Her breath caught unexpectedly at the brush of his lips over hers. A painfully innocent kiss with intentions that were anything but. A question, given so that she might answer in her own way. Her fingers crept up his shirt, puzzling over how he could feel so different then. He tilted, sighed into her ear.</p><p>“I like when you talk to me.”</p><p>She closed her eyes and flattened her palm to his chest.</p><p>“Mika,” he added.</p><p>Her brow pinched and she sucked in a silent gasp.</p><p>“Am I allowed to call you that,” he half teased, half asked in that rare tone beneath his usual register. He pressed a kiss to her neck and she shuddered. It was almost maddening how sincere he could be and how it got under her skin.</p><p>“You can do whatever you want.”</p><p>Armin shifted his weight over her.</p><p>“Do? Or say?”</p><p>Her head spun. What was the difference, really?</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>His movements slowed to a halt. Her eyes inched open to find him staring at her, expression unreadable.</p><p>“You shouldn’t say that,” he warned. She slipped her hand free and set to pulling at his shirt hem.</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>He took her hands and held them between their bodies, shirt left unfortunately in place.</p><p>“You don’t know what I might have to say.”</p><p>She swallowed, but the lump in her throat remained. Did she really want to know?</p><p>“What would that be,” she asked. Even she could hear the tentative nature of it passing her lips. The intense burning in his eyes softened. He smiled, but the pause was far too long.</p><p>“Nothing,” he murmured and Mikasa decided she was better off not knowing. Not that she had the wherewithal to part from him in order to ask, anyway. His fingers threaded into her hair and he held her to him, mouth moving painstakingly slow against hers. She wasn’t sure he was meaning to be a tease, but by the time he worked her lips apart and tasted her tongue, she let out a telling moan.</p><p>Whatever rules she had been attempting to construct, they were toppling at every touch. There was an intensity rolling off of Armin that she hadn’t had before, but she realized she never wanted to lose. She fantasized words he might have said, when he pushed into her. Words she couldn’t yet admit that she wanted to hear, but still they echoed in the back of her mind every time he said her name. Every time his arm tensed and brought her body against his. When he laid his head on her chest, searching for air, and when he pressed his hand into the small of her back so that she would lay closer to him.</p><p>She didn’t ask, suddenly afraid that he could have meant anything but what she secretly hoped for. He shifted, curled, and pulled her arm over him. She held him and considered, maybe, what she would say to him back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Some extra soft... Ah, who am I kidding, the rest of this fic is a lot of up and up fluff.</p><p>Thank you for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Armin and Ymir get roped into a big project with an uncomfortably familiar project team.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Armin quieted the alarm. Mikasa shifted slightly, but settled once more and might have fooled him if not for the arm that constricted as soon as he attempted to sit up. </p>
<p>“Mikasa,” he protested. Barely. Her cheek pressed into his arm. A remnant of drool did, too, and he bit back a grin. She had sniffed out the largest shirt in his closet and claimed it for her own. Possibly permanently, he suspected. Not that he minded at all. </p>
<p>He brushed a bit of hair from her eyes, hardly able to believe that he had been intimidated by her for even one minute once before. She had done a good job of hiding how soft she really was. That is, until her eyes had lit up having a full grown lizard climb her arm. Perhaps he was biased, but it had been difficult to believe her as anything but warm ever since. </p>
<p>So warm. He closed his eyes. </p>
<p>“Don’t fall asleep, you have to go to work,” she cautioned, eyes still firmly shut. He nudged her.</p>
<p>“Then you’ll have to release me.”</p>
<p>She only hummed.</p>
<p>“No?”</p>
<p>He shuddered when her fingers trailed up his side, his chest. Lips pressed against his neck and -</p>
<p>“H-hey!” </p>
<p>A sleepy smile crossed her features. He slid away, pausing only once out of range.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He had hardly touched his chair - hardly had a moment to recall the elusive chime of Mikasa’s laugh from where she had leaned into his kitchen counter beside him over a cup of coffee - when Erwin’s email popped up. Or rather, when Ymir’s long drawn out ‘fuck’ sounded beside him. </p>
<p>“What,” he asked as tried to speed read the short book of an email. </p>
<p>“We’re screwed. Historia is going to kill me.”</p>
<p>“What?” </p>
<p>He cringed at the rise in his voice, the note of worry so obvious, before getting to the heart of the correspondence. </p>
<p>“Oh,” he breathed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They rose from their chairs. Erwin shook each of their hands with his deceivingly friendly smile. Every person in the room knew what it would look like if they let him down. </p>
<p>“Great. I look forward to the results. I trust everything will be up to your usual standards.”</p>
<p>Armin and Ymir escaped the corner office with polite, although admittedly hasty, goodbyes followed by a moment of silence for their weekend.</p>
<p>“What’s up with these big clients anyway? What kind of a fucking deadline is that?” </p>
<p>Armin nodded again. Footsteps rounded the corner and they both watched as Reiner emerged into the mouth of the hall. </p>
<p>“Shit,” Ymir breathed. “You think that him and Bertolt -”</p>
<p>But it wasn’t Bertolt bringing up the rear. Ymir sucked in her breath. Although, Armin’s first concern was neither Ymir’s unavoidable future remarks or the familiar faces approaching them. </p>
<p>“Great. What’s Erwin got us in for this time,” Reiner asked, coming up square with Ymir. </p>
<p>“You’ll see,” Ymir replied drily, “But I’m not going to be standing here like deadweight when Erwin does his whole ‘come in’ thing. So I guess we’ll see you soon.”</p>
<p>Reiner shot them both a confused grimace. Armin would have bothered explaining, but Ymir was right about at least one thing and he followed her retreat. Erwin’s greeting carried all the way to the end of the hall. </p>
<p>“Reiner, Annie. Excellent. Come in.”</p>
<p>“Historia’s not going to be happy,” Ymir lamented aloud. “We were supposed to go visit her sister.”</p>
<p>Armin shoved his hands in his pockets. Historia might not be the only one. </p>
<p>“It’s a big opportunity,” he supplied in an attempt to stay positive. Ymir scoffed. </p>
<p>“I guess. Still, I had plans with my girlfriend, not with my computer. Don’t you?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he admitted. </p>
<p>“What about if Reiner and Annie are on this project with us? And by that, I obviously mean -”</p>
<p>“I know,” he cut her off, tired of her ribbing on a subject that she knew hardly anything about. “I’ll do my job and I’m sure she will, too. Can’t you leave it alone?” </p>
<p>It came out harsher than he meant it to be. Ymir only flashed a grin.</p>
<p>“Oh, snappy Arlert.” </p>
<p>Armin shook his head as the elevator lurched to a stop. Ymir plopped in her chair as soon as they got back to their workstations, but Armin collected his wallet and keycard as fast as possible.</p>
<p>“Looks like we’ve already got another email,” she said, holding him tethered another minute.</p>
<p>“What does it say?”</p>
<p>“Something something, big words. We’re meeting after lunch.”</p>
<p>“With Erwin?” </p>
<p>“Nope. With the <i>team.</i> It’s already been added to our calendar. Damn, that was fast.”</p>
<p>No surprise there, Armin thought. It was tempting to ask Ymir to clarify whose emails were on that invite, but somehow he felt very sure about their lineup. So he waved goodbye and made his way back across the floor. Down to the lobby and nearly to the glass doors when the sound of his name stopped him in his tracks. </p>
<p>Annie stood stiffly beside an oversized column. She had built a habit of avoiding him, quite easy to do considering their schedules and different floors. Meaning she had gone out of her way to intercept him. </p>
<p>“Hi,” he said. </p>
<p>“You and Ymir got put on the Sina proposal.” </p>
<p>She studied him briefly before adding, </p>
<p>“Look, we don’t have to make it weird.”</p>
<p>Always to the point, Annie. </p>
<p>“It’s not weird,” he protested.</p>
<p>“Then why do you look like it?”</p>
<p>He pursed his lips and tried to adopt body language that better said ‘casual.’ Although he doubted if it was working. </p>
<p>“Is Ymir giving you shit?”</p>
<p>Armin cracked a tight-lipped smile at that. </p>
<p>“It’s Ymir,” he stated. Annie raised a brow before looking away. If he didn’t know any better, he would think she was nervous. </p>
<p>“Right. Does she… Did you ever say anything to her?”</p>
<p>“Of course not.”</p>
<p>He had promised, hadn't he? It wasn’t his business if she wanted to keep it to herself. Even if he hoped she would be honest one day about it. For her own sake. </p>
<p>“Does your dad know yet?” Armin pressed lightly. </p>
<p>“No, but,” Annie still kept her eyes glued to the floor,  “Maybe soon. It’s getting sort of… serious.”</p>
<p>“Oh. Oh, that’s - ”</p>
<p>“Sorry, you don’t want to hear about that.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s ok, really.” Armin’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”</p>
<p>Annie shifted on her feet and glanced back at the elevator bank, hesitating, but ultimately choosing to remain one question longer. Or, statement, rather.</p>
<p>“I heard you brought Eren’s sister to the company dinner.”</p>
<p>The trace relief in her voice supported his vague theory that a part of her might feel guilty over it all. But he wished she wouldn’t. </p>
<p>“Yeah,” he said, a smile tipping his lips before he could stop it. Annie looked up suddenly.  </p>
<p>“I hope they aren’t too alike.”</p>
<p>Armin let out a short laugh. It had probably taken all of five minutes for Bertolt to text her as soon as he had walked through that door with Mikasa. Eren’s reputation from his time at the company was, if nothing else, widespread. And there was a whole lot of ‘else.’ </p>
<p>“No, no, she’s…” </p>
<p>
  <i>Thoughtful. Dedicated. Supportive.</i>
</p>
<p>Well, maybe not completely unlike Eren after all, but that was to say nothing of how either of them approached a situation.  Funny, that if he took the time to consider it they had more in common than he had gauged before. And yet -</p>
<p>But Annie began moving away before he could ever quite finish. She had never been much of one to talk about others anyway.</p>
<p>“That’s good. See you,” she said abruptly. And that was that. </p>
<p>So he made his own way, heading outside while marginally less worried than before. It was one thing cleared up. Less pleasant, though, was the conversation he had no choice but to have. </p>
<p>Logically, it was beyond his control. Logically, it was work and nothing more than his job. <i>Logically,</i> Mikasa would understand once she knew the whole story. None of that reasoning calmed his racing mind at the prospect of needing to lay it all out now.</p>
<p>He found her in the shade beside the pond atop a sturdy blanket and small sketchbook in hand. She didn’t bother trying to conceal the pages when he lowered to sit beside her. </p>
<p>“Lunch is in the bag,” she said, pen dragging across the page. </p>
<p>“Thank you for bringing food.”</p>
<p>She paused. Smiled as she lifted her head. </p>
<p>“How’s work?”</p>
<p>“It’s alright.”</p>
<p>“Alright?”</p>
<p>She gave him a quizzical look while carefully unpacking items. It was always a nice afternoon when she had time to come share his lunch hour. He chewed his lip. Rubbed his palms into his pants. Mikasa’s brow furrowed. </p>
<p>“There’s a big project,” he began. </p>
<p>It took him the better part of a sandwich to explain the client and why they mattered. Then the rest of it to break the news that he would likely be in the office that evening, the next day, and possibly the day after. Then there was the half a water bottle he downed in order to nervously comment on Erwin’s expectations and occasional oddities. Not exactly necessary information but, well, it did pass a bit more time before the part that concerned him most. </p>
<p>Mikasa was on almost any other occasion content to listen to what certainly bordered on rambling at times from him, but he gathered the clues on her face. She could tell he had something to say that she might not be fond of and she was ready for him to get to the actual point. Armin polished off his water in a futile attempt to make his throat more compliant to the next part. </p>
<p>“I was on a similar project last year.”</p>
<p>She nodded. Silently.</p>
<p>“And I - Me and one of my coworkers, well teammate, I guess - ” He cleared his throat. Glanced at the empty bottle. “We dated a little while. And Erwin wants the exact same project team .” </p>
<p>He watched the gears click behind Mikasa’s eyes. If she hadn’t told him the things she had, the things she had slowly continued to reveal in the dark, lying beside him, he might not have worried so much. Her expression was flat and he could barely stand not being able to read it this time, but he understood. </p>
<p>“But look, we weren’t really, well - ”</p>
<p>“No, I,” Mikasa interrupted quietly, “I don’t need to know.”</p>
<p>“It’s just that - ” he still tried to explain. He could give her better peace of mind if she knew the whole of it. However, she was more stern the second time she cut him off. More confident.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to know.”</p>
<p>Her posture was proud, though her eyes were far away. He grasped her hand before he could think, then hoped it was an alright move after the fact. Relief crawled up his arm when she squeezed in reply, even if it was with a strength disproportionate to what a handhold required. He would take it. </p>
<p>“I trust you,” she added at such a low volume that the wind might have carried it away if he had not been leaning in. As it was, he had heard her loud and clear. And he would do anything he could to prove himself worthy of it. His mind was already chewing, determined to convey what she meant to him.</p>
<p>“I know it will probably be late when I leave the office, but do you still want to come over tonight? Or we could still see a movie. If you don’t mind going later.”</p>
<p>At the same time, he hoped he wasn’t asking too much of her. He equally hoped she would say yes because he did mean it and he did want to if she did.</p>
<p>“You’ll have to work in the morning.”</p>
<p>His shoulders rose in a little shrug. So? </p>
<p>“I don’t mind late,” she said at once. Followed by a sheepish, afterthought-like, “But… you don’t have to do that for me, Armin.”</p>
<p>“It’s for me, too,” he admitted, “I want to see you. I know it’s selfish, asking you to wait, but I still want to go with you. I don’t want to cancel if we don’t have to.”</p>
<p>“You would see me tomorrow night. With Sasha and Connie.”</p>
<p>He knew she was not protesting, only stating so. Or perhaps she was under some sort of impression that one evening was some sort of check box for him. It left a sour taste in his mouth to think that she had once operated in such a way. That she might have been led to believe there was a minimum or a maximum time her company could be enjoyed or that she should worry about burdening him when he was the one putting a burden as far as he was concerned.</p>
<p>“I want to see you any time, Mikasa,” he said, dead serious.</p>
<p>He would want to see her any night. All nights. They would share the events of their day, in his ever growing fantasy, and have each other through to sunrise. He would tell her what he really thought. Felt. She had said it herself. </p>
<p>Anything.</p>
<p>“I,” he began in a moment of crazed inspiration. The sun had gotten under his skin. </p>
<p>“It’s,” she began in the same breath. </p>
<p>“Oh,” he said, wondering whether or not he had just been saved from himself, “You first.”</p>
<p>“It’s getting close to one o'clock.”</p>
<p>She held her phone up in proof. Oh, right.</p>
<p>“Thanks.”</p>
<p>Time might have slipped him by without her vigilance. </p>
<p>“What were you going to say,” she asked.</p>
<p>His fingers fidgeted where they still lay atop hers. No, he definitely shouldn’t. Besides, was he truly sure that’s what it was? It was just that he could picture it so easily. Him. Her. They made sense to him in a way he could not find it in him, for once, to overanalyze or even to explain. There was simply something that resonated inside him when she was there. </p>
<p>Since he could remember, he had been interested in her, if only to know her better. To see if he might ever glimpse behind the still face she wore in the photos he had seen. And now he found himself let in so close he could hardly believe it. </p>
<p>Armin tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling with how shy she grew at such a small thing. </p>
<p>“I… do you want to walk with me a little while?”</p>
<p>He didn’t mean to ask even more of her, it was only the first thing that sprang to mind. But her expression brightened and she gave a sharp nod and a soft ‘Mhm.’ At least he managed to also convince her to let him do his part and carry the blanket while they meandered back toward his office. If there weren’t a meeting, no email from Erwin, he would have liked to spend longer with her in the perfect breeze coming off the water. It rolled lazily over the path and toyed at their hair and their clothes.   </p>
<p>Mikasa’s voice was steady. </p>
<p>“You’re not selfish, you know.”</p>
<p>Armin stole a glance, then focused back on the concrete under his feet.</p>
<p>“Oh,” he managed pathetically.</p>
<p>“I mean it.”</p>
<p>She bumped him playfully when he still found no answer for her, but it only caused him to stumble some. Her hand steadied him and out her mouth came a tiny,</p>
<p>“Oops.”</p>
<p>He found himself grabbing onto her, too, but not for balance. His laugh vibrated against her collar bone where he couldn’t seem to stop it until she joined in with her own quiet giggle. </p>
<p>He loved her. Reasoning could go fuck itself. </p>
<p>“C’mon, you have your meeting,” she spoke into his ear, a smile still coloring her voice. </p>
<p>“I know, I -” He let out another chuckle before recovering himself. “Oh, I’m not really looking forward to it.”</p>
<p>“I thought you liked work.”</p>
<p>“I do, but. Well, it’s a stressful thing to put together. And I really was looking forward to dinner with you.”</p>
<p>“I’ll bring you dinner. We’ll eat it before the movie.”</p>
<p>“Ok,” he replied, a grin still stuck on that he couldn’t seem to shake. Unfortunately his building was rising quickly to meet them.</p>
<p>“Sorry, you didn’t have to walk me all this way,” he apologized, hoping he hadn’t wasted too much of her work day already. </p>
<p>“It’s ok. It was a nice walk.”</p>
<p>She relieved the blanket from his arms. </p>
<p>“I’ll see you later,” he assured her.</p>
<p>“Good.” </p>
<p>It could almost have been a tease, but he found himself sure that she was completely serious when she said it. </p>
<p>“Bye,” they exchanged before his legs were carrying him back up towards the building. Except that he stopped in his tracks and could not resist turning around. </p>
<p>She stood perfect as always, the folded blanket hugged to her chest.</p>
<p>Her expression morphed to one of surprise as he jogged back to her and pressed his lips to her cheek. It was only a second, but her eyes widened, flicking between him and his office doors before ultimately landing on him. The corners crinkled when her lips lifted. </p>
<p>“See you,” he said before turning on his heels for good. This time with a sense of satisfaction rising in his chest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oops, this one was a bit later than I intended. I’ve been a bit busy, then I got sick last month. Fortunately, I’m doing fine now :) Stay safe out there. </p>
<p>The final chapter count for this may fluctuate by 1-2 chapters since I’m ironing the last of it out, but yeah! About 6 left.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Dusk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mikasa has her own way of coping. Armin learns that Mikasa does not much appreciate surprises.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa could not hear the dull thud over her music. </p><p>
  <i>One.</i>
</p><p>The vibrations up her arms had long since faded into the background. A rumor of a complaint was starting in her shoulders, but she did not care. </p><p><i>One, two.</i> </p><p>Her shin made contact. She steadied the bag before taking a step back to reexamine. Refocus. The crestfallen look on Armin’s face when she asked him to drop her off at home the night before was burned into her mind. It had seemed real. But what did she know about ‘real?’</p><p>She delivered a jab and her muscles whispered that she might be going too far. One glove came off, then the other. She pushed her hair back.</p>
<hr/><p>Sasha was stationed squarely on her stool when Mikasa dragged her self back through their front door. </p><p>“Morning,” Sasha called.</p><p>“It’s almost six.”</p><p>“I’m on the wrong time, you know that.”</p><p>“Fine,” Mikasa conceded with maybe a tiny smile, “Good morning.”</p><p>Sasha laughed. Mikasa narrowed her eyes at the glass in her hand.</p><p>“Morning cocktail?” </p><p>“Ooh, yeah, Connie made it. Really nice, actually, I was just saying when I got back how I wanted one so bad.”</p><p>“Aren’t we going out soon?”</p><p>Sasha shrugged that off.</p><p>“Do you want one?”</p><p>Mikasa’s duffle thunked where she dropped it on the floor. Sasha grinned wickedly and sprung up only to drag Mikasa to the backyard. Connie was stationed in a lawn chair with no more than a water, despite the pitcher resting on the glass top.</p><p><i>Funny,</i> Mikasa thought suddenly, never having really bothered to notice how they had a better table in the backyard than they did in their own kitchen. She had not spent much time within the tiny fence bounds but at her desk, usually listening to Sasha and Connie from through the sliding door. </p><p>“Remind me not to leave again, jeez.”</p><p>Mikasa blinked. Sasha leaned into the back of Connie’s shoulders with a smirk. Connie should have been sporting a similar expression, but his face was stiff and his gaze unwilling to venture anywhere above the grass. She shook her head and lifted the pitcher with a sniff, thinking about asking Connie what exactly it consisted of, but ultimately doing nothing more than pouring herself a glass.</p><p>“So why aren’t you over at Armin’s? You could shower there, miss sweaty.”</p><p>Mikasa crouched into an old beach chair that was sunk humbly near the ground. She closed her eyes and took a long sip before answering.</p><p>“He’s working.”</p><p>A shuffle sounded with the swishy sticking of the door and she needed zero guesses to figure out who remained. </p><p>“Has that been happening lately?”</p><p>Mikasa exhaled carefully through her nose. </p><p>“No.” </p><p>“Is everything ok?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Then,” Sasha paused, “Why are you all worrying and stuff?”</p><p><i>I’m not worried,</i> was Mikasa’s first response but she knew better than to even try that with her.</p><p>“I don’t know,” she said instead. She waited for Sasha to press but was met only with an offer.</p><p>“Do you want to go to the store with us?”</p><p>Mikasa shook her head.</p><p>“Does he need to be talked to?”</p><p>“No, Sash -” A faint snort worked its way out her nose. “No, everything is fine. I’m just… thinking.”</p><p>Another slurp and a tinkle of ice.</p><p>“Alright. Can you think of any groceries then? Cause we’ve got to get going, we’re way low on shit.”</p><p>“I’ll get mine tomorrow. You’re not driving are you?”</p><p>“No, Connie is.”</p><p>The long pause was suspicious and Mikasa was already trying to rise from her seat, but an arm constricted across her collarbone before she could escape. </p><p>“Get - get off -”</p><p>“Mikaaa, tell meee!”</p><p>Sasha’s cry warbled as she shook Mikasa’s torso. Mikasa caught a glimpse of a concerned Connie peeking through the glass door. </p><p>“No,” she answered plainly, extracting herself quickly from the hold and the chair. Sasha pouted, but let it be.  </p><p>“Fine. Promise you’ll tell me if something happens, though. Ok?”</p><p>Mikasa chewed the inside of her lip. </p><p>“Ok,” she finally echoed.</p><p>“Good. Because you know I’d get ahold of you anyways.” Sasha wrenched the slider open with a grin. “See you in a minute!”</p><p>A minute in Sasha grocery terms was more than enough time for Mikasa to wash the gym from her skin and finish the oddly minty dredges of the mystery drink. She mouthed silently along to the song thrumming in her ears, head nodding. She eyed a particular shirt in her closet which was debatably worth what Sasha would say about it and let herself sway a bit with the beat. Of course, what could she say if she never saw? Mikasa was not sure what the hell she was even doing or if she would even be at his place at the end of the night, but she did it anyway. </p><p>Connie’s drink was not helpful, either. Or, was it? Mikasa dialed up the volume. What was it and why was the answer so difficult to grasp? It was her. Her, a buzz, and the bass line. Her, a sweater pulling at her hair, the bass. Nobody home but her. Nobody, but -</p><p>Ice shot down her spine at the pressure on her shoulder. She had a limb in hand and her would-be-attacker pinned under her body before she could think. And when she could, the first thing that came to mind was how Eren would see now that their self defense classes, which she had strong-armed him into, had not been a waste of money.</p><p>“Mikasa,” Armin groaned from beneath her. His wrist was in her fingers and his hair sprawled golden about him on her carpet. </p><p>“You did not just do that,” Sasha breathed from the doorway. </p><p>Mikasa’s grip on his arms turned to fluttering. Fretting. </p><p>“Sorry. I’m sorry. Are you hurt?”</p><p>He pulled back on an instinct when she reached again for his wrist, expression wary. Sasha’s snickering was barely contained. </p><p>“Sorry,” she whispered, hands shaking with adrenaline. Oh god, she had hurt him, she -</p><p>“You’d think I was a murderer,” Armin mumbled, face rolling towards the door. Sasha let out a throaty laugh. </p><p>“Better watch yourself, Armin,” Sasha warned as she pushed off of the frame and out of view. Mikasa watched her go, wringing her hands together nervously all the while.</p><p>“Sorry. Are you ok? Sorry -”</p><p>“I’m fine. I think. Are you going to let me up?”</p><p>Her leg swung out as she unstraddled him. He took her extended hand. Her shoulder gave her a quiet ache when she pulled him up. </p><p>“Why are you here?”</p><p>It came out far more accusatory than she intended in the wake of her absolute surprise at finding him there at all. And yet he seemed to grasp perfectly what she meant.</p><p>“We finished early,” he hardly explained, no trace of offense in his tone, but his eyes cast past her.</p><p>Mikasa followed his line of sight to her phone and headphones in a lump on the floor. Color crept up her neck. He had <i>seen.</i> She pressed her lips together.</p><p>But he wasn’t going to bring it up it would seem. She let out a slow breath and, taking extra care, she made absolutely sure not a scrap of sound would escape when she disconnected the headphones. The only thing worse than him catching her, second to tackling him to the ground, would be if he had any idea what she had been listening to. </p><p>“How did you get in?”</p><p>“Hm?” </p><p>Armin blinked out of a distracted stare, something Mikasa had come to recognize. She tried again.</p><p>“The front door was locked.”</p><p>“Oh. Sasha and Connie were outside. Good timing -” He glanced at her briefly. “Sort of.”</p><p>Her feet were glued in place as her pulse began a decline into normalcy and her brain began catching up. </p><p>“Maybe I should’ve called,” he posited, lowering himself to her bed, still watching her. </p><p>“No, that’s - No, I. Sorry. For tackling you.”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to scare you.”</p><p>He glanced away with an air of guilt. Her heart stammered, but not for fear. She took in his pressed shirt and book bag. </p><p>“You came from work?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Mikasa perched herself beside him, sneaking a look at the time. </p><p>“I know, it’s not really that early, but I -” He drifted off when her head landed roughly on his shoulder, taking a moment to find his voice once more. “I felt like we - Well, I know, maybe you needed space. I just - after last night - I got-”</p><p>His stammering words died in his throat. Her arm had found its way around his waist. He wrapped her with an awkward side arm to the best of his ability while the slow release of breath through his nose was a whisper in her ear. It was barely comfortable but the pit in her stomach was not so heavy, even if she regretted how she had ended the night. Walled, guarded, and practically wordless. He didn’t seem to hold it against her as he held her against him. There was a slight stutter in his breathing before he uttered her name low. Serious.</p><p>“Mikasa, I -”</p><p>A loud knock at the door jamb was followed by a mumbling about leaving in Connie’s voice. Connie was far out from the frame before Mikasa lifted her head and opened her eyes. Right. She still lived with two other people and had a door wide open.</p><p>“Did you want to go home first,” she offered, resurveying him. Not that he looked poorly. Not at all, in fact. She trailed a finger across his stiff collar to which he delivered a soft smile. </p><p>“No, let’s just go. Besides, Eren called when I was pulling up and he’s already there.”</p><p>“Why? He’s so early.”</p><p>Eren was not always late, but he certainly was not going to be an hour early anywhere. Armin locked eyes with her and raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“He and Zeke were… <i>chillin’.</i>”</p><p>They stared until she could feel the laugh climb up her throat and she could see the crinkle at his eyes. </p><p>“I guess, it’s better than fighting?” Armin offered. </p><p>It only made the laugh escape. She bumped her shoulder into his and reveled in the bubble of his own quiet chuckle. The bed lifted at the loss of his weight, then hers. Guilt tempted her for having thought - How could she have thought that he might - It was <i>work.</i> Not even that abnormal, barely having disrupted any plans, and now he stood there as if it was not even a question that he would be there. </p><p>She picked at a hangnail and pulled her gaze to the floor. </p><p>“Here, let’s go,” he urged, one hand giving the small of her back a bare amount of pressure. Mikasa took the suggestion, stepping out into the hall with him beside her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Late againnnn sorry. It’s just that the next few chapters were all getting written at the same time. I feel like they’re a trio. Which does mean though that they are nearly done...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. There's no "I" in Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eren: friend; family; unfiltered</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m - this stupid thing,” Armin trailed off, fumbling the strap for the third time. </p><p>Mikasa grabbed and snapped it in one easy motion, tugging at things until it was properly fitted. An outdated introduction video played on a screen that had to be even older than the vests hanging off their shoulders. She released him finally, although not without allowing the backs of her hands to brush his chest and pull an eyebrow raise from him. </p><p>“Whose idea was this, anyways?” Connie asked.  </p><p>“Mine,” Eren called back, pointing towards her and Armin. “You know these two came here a few weeks ago and didn’t even invite us?”</p><p>Connie gasped with theatrics that were hardly warranted over missed mini golf. Was his FOMO that bad, Mikasa wondered. Regardless, Eren’s certainly was. Upon casual mention of their golfing foray, Eren had made quite a deal of it until finally committing to dragging them and everyone else back to the same arcade. </p><p>“Months ago,” she corrected, testing her trigger with a squeeze. </p><p>“I guess I should’ve changed clothes after all,” Armin mumbled to her. </p><p>Eren’s original plan had never extended past game machines or mini golf. That is, until a few minutes after walking in and noticing the neon sign reading ‘Laser Tag!’</p><p>“Aren’t we kind of old for this?” Jean griped, although his smirk looked more excited than sarcastic. Eren scoffed. </p><p>“You’re never too old. Besides, Zeke’s old and he’s playing.” </p><p>Zeke lifted his face. </p><p>“I’m only a few years older than you.”</p><p>Mikasa held her breath out of habit. Any statement even suggesting Zeke’s close age gap to themselves was off limits as far as she had ever been concerned since her own attempt at something akin to it. </p><p>Eren shrugged. </p><p>“Yeah, but you’re thirty.”</p><p>Zeke only chuckled as the employee that had distributed their gear reemerged from a door that no amount of black paint could make disappear into a wall.</p><p>“Ok, Team One. Ready?”</p><p>“I think you mean ‘Team <i>Won,’</i>” Floch said smugly, elbowing Eren in the side. </p><p>“Yeah, that’s what she said,” Jean sighed.</p><p>“No, like - You know, won. As in winning - ”</p><p>His voice trailed as they disappeared behind a hot pink door. She glanced at Sasha and Connie, already practicing their technique, sound effects and all. At least they seemed back to relative normalcy. Maybe Connie had simply been in an odd mood earlier. Armin leaned into her.   </p><p>“I should warn you, I’m not very good.” </p><p>“You’ve played enough laser tag to know that?” </p><p>“Well, I have terrible aim. And I’m not exactly - ”</p><p>He stopped short at her sharp look. The teen part-timer reappeared at the doorway before he could further degrade himself.</p><p>“Team Two,” she beckoned. </p><p>The sound of Sasha and Connie whispering hurriedly followed them through a dark hall, twittering back and forth until they emerged to a carpeted clearing. </p><p>“Do you think there’s a company out there that only makes carpets for arcades?” Armin said under his breath. She smiled, about to respond when their guide came to a halt.</p><p>“Ok, you guys are good to go as soon as the light turns. Remember, no running or physical contact is permitted. No screaming <i>or</i> swearing,” her eyes lingered over Sasha and Connie, “And, please, no climbing.”</p><p>The last came out more plea than rule. She left them with a mild, ‘have fun,’ and to Mikasa’s surprise Armin was the next to speak up.</p><p>“What’s our plan?”</p><p>Connie turned, confused.</p><p>“We need a plan?”</p><p>“Don’t we?”</p><p>“Yeah, get their flag,” Sasha supplied. Armin chewed his lip.</p><p>“They’ll have a plan.” </p><p>It was when they all faced her that Mikasa realized she had spoken aloud. Connie laughed. </p><p>“Sure, Eren charges in.”</p><p>Armin shook his head.</p><p>“I think Mikasa’s right.”</p><p>“Can’t we just shoot at them? Grab and go?”</p><p>Sasha shifted impatiently from left to right, eyes flicking to the light at the top of one wall. Red, still. </p><p>“Not if we want to win.”</p><p>Again, Mikasa found herself letting out thoughts of her own. Armin’s back straightened. </p><p>“I could stay here. Hide. There was a little pocket in that hall. I don’t know what everything else looks like, but Mikasa, if you -”</p><p>“Right,” she agreed. </p><p>Armin nodded quickly and she gave him one back, nearly imperceptible, making her way towards the other way out of their ‘base.’ Sasha’s hair flicked as she looked between them twice over.</p><p>“Wait - What the hell was that? What’re we doing? Mika?” </p><p>“Don’t get shot,” she ordered. </p><p>Fortunately, you didn’t have to tell Sasha and Connie twice how to be good at a game. </p><p>“And get the flag if you have the chance,” she added just as the light switched.</p>
<hr/><p>Armin’s back pressed into hard foam paneling. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but found his thoughts drifting repeatedly. And smiled ruefully at himself at how it consumed his consciousness.</p><p>He had to tell her, if only he could find the chance. And it cemented in his heart at every opportunity, leaving him more strung out each time. He couldn’t shake the image of her in her room, although his wrist was slightly sore still from the fallout of it. Which was decidedly worth it, he had concluded. </p><p>Faint shouts grew stronger and his mind returned to his dark hiding spot. He hoped he was actually biding his time and not simply wasting it. Doubt grew with the minutes. But… </p><p>Mikasa believed in him. And she had understood so easily. A word he found slipping into his internal vocabulary so frequently since meeting her rose to the forefront once more. </p><p>
  <i>Seamless. </i>
</p><p>He had to tell her. </p><p>It made his stomach churn. He didn’t know if she was ready to hear it. How could he be sure? Could he ever be? What if she ran as it left his lips? </p><p>And still.</p><p>Footsteps snapped him back. These were close, approaching, and the fact that he could hear them was proof it was not Mikasa, if nothing else. The steps slowed. Eren was coming for their flag himself, he was sure of it, and he must have noticed Armin’s absence. Must know what he was thinking. But if he could make his shot it wouldn’t matter. His breath stuck in his chest and he clutched the plastic gun until there wasn’t a sound left. </p><p>His barrel led, finger followed, and a ‘goddamnit’ echoed between him and his target and for a moment he thought it might be his own vest flashing, but he looked down.</p><p>Green. </p><p>Floch groaned and it took Armin seconds too long to register and switch gears. He launched into an awkward hop that was meant to be a run but cut short as he remembered that meant elimination. His power walk from one end of the hall to their base was short but for the first time in what felt like an hour he saw lighting as well as the back of his own teammate. </p><p>“You don’t have it,” Eren accused.</p><p>“You don’t know that.”</p><p>Mikasa’s lie was flimsy. A quality that, no matter how it exponentially added to Armin’s recent revelations, was in detriment to their current goal. He could hear the grin in Eren’s voice.</p><p>“So just shoot me now and I can’t take your flag.”</p><p>“Someone else will take it.”</p><p>Mikasa was leaving out the unspoken truth that Eren would shoot back and they would be near guaranteed a loss at that rate. Armin wasn’t sure how they even managed this standstill in the first place, but losing her wasn’t an option. But he hesitated slightly at the mouth of the hall. </p><p>When had he ever been so competitive? Mikasa’s hip shifted in the corner of his eye along with her stance. She was getting impatient. She wanted to win. A place in him that would hardly admit it was dying to see Eren’s face if he lost. </p><p>Armin dove for her vest and pulled, praying the attendant was not actually watching any cameras for foul play. Whether it was cheating to touch a teammate was unclear, and his elimination was imminent regardless, but he hoped to at least make it count. </p><p>She grunted, taken off guard. Not enough to make her fall but at least a stumble and he needed little else. He lifted his gun and smiled at the sound of the hit landing on his vest. And at the lack of any sizzling speakers announcing his rule breaking. Eren grinned down the sight line of his gun but it was short lived, his face falling when he caught sight of Armin’s.</p><p>“Fu -”</p><p>Eren’s vest going off censored his low toned swear. Armin looked at Mikasa first but she was looking back at him, gun hardly raised. </p><p>“Ah <i>ha!”</i> </p><p>Sasha stepped in from the other opening with a baton held high in one hand, laser gun still trained on Eren in the other.</p><p>“You are welcome,” she announced, enunciating each word while waving the other team’s ‘flag’ overhead with a matching laugh that bordered on cackle. </p><p>Mikasa broke a smile that put Armin’s stomach in his throat. Eren frowned, pointing at them both. </p><p>“It’s not even a fair game, both of you on a team.”</p><p>“Um, excuse me, <i>I’m</i> the one who got the flag. And shot you!”</p><p>Sasha waved it in Eren’s face with a renewed laugh. A speaker crackled, beckoning their exit, and Armin’s stomach clenched in the exact right way when Mikasa’s smile softened and she gave him a version that he had never quite seen before.</p>
<hr/><p>“So I guess you used to play a lot of laser tag, too,” Armin asked with a grin as he shucked the vest from his shoulders. </p><p>“No,” she said, following suit, “I’ve never played before.”</p><p>His smile morphed into a round ‘o’ until he shut his jaw without another word.</p><p>“You get used to it,” Sasha said, clapping Armin’s shoulder and passing him by. “Connie!”</p><p>Sasha’s arms encircled Connie’s waist and he practically froze on the spot. </p><p>“Good game, man. Now let’s go win something!”</p><p>Mikasa had never once seen him so stiff or troubled for words. </p><p>“You - You know that stuff is rigged, Sasha,” he managed after a long pause.</p><p>She hadn’t heard him use her full name in ages, either. </p><p>“So?” </p><p>Sasha tugged him arm first out to the arcade floor. </p><p>“So,” Armin started after they both watched them disappear. </p><p>“Okay, fine, good game, good game,” Eren drawled, hooking a sweaty arm around them each. </p><p>“I wouldn’t know,” Zeke commented with ease and catching up, “Your friend got me in the first minute.”</p><p>“Which friend?”</p><p>“... Sandra?”</p><p>“Sasha. Who didn’t she get, then,” Mikasa asked with a touch of pride. </p><p>“Armin got me,” Floch grumbled. </p><p>“Sasha,” Jean threw in. “You really didn’t get anyone, Mikasa?”</p><p>She hummed her ‘no.’ Her focus had been on tracking Eren. Perhaps her mark might have been greater otherwise, she had to ask herself. </p><p>The booth they found was sticky and the drinks overpriced, but she was happy for the seat anyway. Admittedly, she had done a lot for the day, even for her. Armin lingered even as the others slid in and she sent him a questioning look. His face lifted from the glowing screen with a worried frown.</p><p>“My boss is calling.”</p><p>Eren scooted a glass her way. </p><p>“What the fuck’s Erwin doing calling you on a Saturday?”</p><p>“There’s - It’s this crazy client. Look, I’m going to take it.”</p><p>Armin’s tone was apologetic and directed unmistakably at Mikasa. Her stomach sank, but she nodded and began armoring herself well in advance. She had to believe. </p><p>It didn’t stop her from staring absently into the table, the shuffle of Jean and Floch leaving to join Sasha and Connie was almost a ghost of a sound. By the time she noticed Zeke retreating, Eren was clearing his throat.</p><p>“Can I ask you something?”</p><p>“No,” she said. Eren kept on, though with an awkwardness unlike him.</p><p>“I - I keep wondering about - what really happened with - It’s just, one day you were living at your apartment and the next week you were at Sasha and Connie’s.”</p><p>Mikasa mustered up the hardest glare in her arsenal and began calculating the best way to escape the booth she was now trapped in by her tactless brother. Surely, she could find Sasha easily enough. And she could hardly believe Eren would even ask. </p><p>Almost as much as she could not believe that she was not escaping, but suddenly speaking. She fidgeted with her straw and stared into ice cubes, but it was indeed her voice.</p><p>“I came home. And she was there.”</p><p>“And he was there?”</p><p>Mikasa nodded. The silence between them was tight and frigid. She wasn’t sure why then, why there, or why she was participating in the conversation, period. She certainly wasn’t drunk and Sasha could attest to the fact that no amount of alcohol had made her spill certain things to <i>anyone.</i> </p><p>“Why didn’t you call me?”</p><p>The hurt in his voice was enough to make her look up. It was as frustrating as it was comforting.</p><p>“Or tell me? Especially after everything?”</p><p>“What everything?”</p><p>“With mom and dad,” he answered quietly. “I just thought - I don’t know why you feel like you can’t talk to me.”</p><p><i>“Because</i> of everything with them, Eren,” she tried to deliver back with a bite but it only came out small and far more honest than she had intended to be. His bottle clunked against the table top. Part of her had always wanted to tell him. For him to understand. She pushed aside the other parts in a moment that she hoped was not only desperate hope. </p><p>“I didn’t want to be the same.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“As mom.”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t you want to be like mom?”</p><p>Mikasa grit her teeth. God, he was literal sometimes. </p><p>“Mom stayed with dad.”</p><p>“But you left. You didn’t know,” Eren said, finally possibly catching her point. </p><p>“What if I had known?”</p><p>The late nights, the long evenings - The weekends he worked. Had she been stupid or blind and which was worse? It had taken interrupting to see. Walking in and seeing for herself.</p><p>“Did you? Know, I mean. Before that.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she conceded. All she really knew was that she had come home early, meaning to surprise him, and - What if that had been the only difference between finding out then or finding out about a love child decades later? </p><p>Unless Carla had known, too? Unless -</p><p>“Who did you call? I know it wasn’t Sasha.”</p><p>Mikasa could not remember a time when Eren’s voice had ever been soft. Even when he whispered, she would not call it soft. But the way he asked was the closest she could imagine him coming to it. Her eyes searched without reward for a glint of golden hair. </p><p>“Why do you know it wasn’t Sasha,” she asked in her own low volume. </p><p>“Because she made Connie call me to ask about you.”</p><p>They shared a silent look. Mikasa took a deep breath. A sigh. And one more breath, slow and hushed through her teeth and past the roof of her mouth. </p><p>“No one.”</p><p>It blended with the clinks of glasses and thick chatter around them. A song that sounded like she ought to know it played above it all, barely obscuring telltale sounds of arcade games. </p><p>It had taken all of three days for Sasha to threaten a physical appearance and less than three minutes before Mikasa found herself agreeing to move in. Not that it took long to move a few boxes from the motel room to the spare bedroom. Her belongings, as it shook out, were not many at the time. The more she looked back, the more obvious it all seemed. No decorations she ever made stuck, she was never supposed to leave things out. She rested her chin in her hand and began to wonder what she had been hanging on to in the first place.</p><p>“Mikasa,” Eren chastised. </p><p>“I didn’t know what to do,” she admitted plainly. </p><p>“I told you -”</p><p>She sighed again. </p><p>“Call you, I know. But - I can take care of myself. You know that, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah, but, you don’t have to every time, Mikasa. Do you know that?”</p><p>“Because I can call if something happens with Armin,” she muttered.</p><p>“Of course you can.”</p><p>“He’s your best friend,” she reminded him, dropping any pretense of sarcasm and reaching for her glass.</p><p>“You’re my sister.”</p><p>Her straw rattled awkwardly at the bottom. A swell rose in her chest. Eren shrugged and turned towards her.</p><p>“But you’ll never have to, at least not for him. I’m sure you won’t. But you can call about anything else, you know?”</p><p>“What makes you so sure,” she asked with a smirk, waiting to hear whatever logic he had spun up on this one. Some more praise about Armin, she expected. Deserved as it may be, she did find it amusing, and maybe a little touching, that he admired him so much. Eren looked at her like she had asked him to teach her how to tie her shoes.</p><p>“You think Armin would ever hurt you like that?”</p><p>Oh, god, she didn’t -</p><p>“No, I was just - ”</p><p>“I mean he’s completely in love with you.”</p><p>The last of her drink burned the wrong way down. Tears pricked her eyes and she quietly choked, her hand shielding her mouth. She shrank away as much as possible while her pulse leapt up her throat. </p><p>“Never really seen him like this, actually,” Eren muttered into the mouth of his bottle, hand wrapping the neck before taking a sip. Mikasa coughed into a cocktail napkin, still searching for air.</p><p>“Why would you say that?” she gasped. </p><p>A fresh cough cropped up, her body dutifully eliminating the last of her self-inflicted choking hazard. The sound of Armin’s voice caught her ear.</p><p>“Are you ok? Do you need water?”</p><p>She nodded, hoping to put some distance between Eren’s very audible train of thought and Armin. </p><p>“I’ll go with you, I’m getting another drink,” Eren offered, taking a perfectly calm swig of beer before scooting from the table. </p><p>Mikasa’s hand was still propped in front of her mouth with the napkin while she watched in perfect horror as Eren accompanied Armin away, no way of knowing what he was going to suggest. She crushed the napkin in her grip. </p><p>“You ok?”</p><p>Sasha had appeared, a full drink in hand and a shifting expression on her face.</p><p>“Fine,” Mikasa croaked, throat still scratchy. “Where’s Connie?”</p><p>“Oh. He wasn’t - He said he didn’t feel well.”</p><p>Mikasa narrowed her eyes. Sasha looked away. She ignored the shuffling of returning feet. The familiar presence shimmying in beside her. </p><p>“What’s up with you,” Eren asked the fidgeting Sasha. Then the brush of a familiar thigh against Mikasa’s sent a tingle up her skin, but she didn’t trust herself to look into those blue eyes. </p><p>“Nothing,” Sasha evaded.</p><p>Mikasa didn’t hear anything else, though. Armin’s hand had found hers beneath the table and silently grasped it, sending a flood of anticipation into her stomach. His shoulder nudged hers the tiniest bit and she knew he was trying to check in, but all she could think was that she wished she were half as brave. If she were, she might blurt it out immediately. </p><p>As it was, the best she could do was finally meet his eyes. His cheeks seemed flushed and his gaze shy, Which only made her stomach clench a second time. </p><p>“It’s kind of late,” she mumbled near his ear. It was hardly late.</p><p>He tore himself from the awkward exchange that was Eren trying to ask Sasha where Connie had gone off to, followed by Eren pulling out his phone and sending what appeared to be a text.</p><p>“I can take you home,” Armin offered softly, shying, hand pulling back to his own lap. A prick of guilt stuck her but there was only one thing for it. His hands had returned above board but it didn’t matter. She let her shoulder press into his, enough that he gave her a sidelong glance. </p><p>“Can I stay with you? Tonight, I mean.”</p><p> He leaned back, falling into the crook of her arm where she gladly let their sides find each other. </p><p>“Of course,” he breathed, “always.”</p><p>Mikasa pulled him even closer. </p><p>“Now?”</p><p>Armin’s laugh rose up and lifted her. She smiled, thumb brushing where she had reached around to his hip. </p><p>“What?”  Sasha’s voice drew Mikasa out of focus. “What’s funny?”</p><p>Armin pursed his lips with a poorly hidden leftover grin and shook his head. </p><p>“Nothing. Sorry, just thought about,” he stopped, giving Mikasa another glance, “Well, I mean, I think we might be heading out.”</p><p>Sasha’s eyebrows were still up when she asked, as they fled from their seats,</p><p>“Already? Will I see you at home?”</p><p>Mikasa straightened her shoulders.</p><p>“No,” she said, already one step towards the door.</p><p>“Oh, um - good to see everyone. I - Bye!” Armin clipped, one step behind her and nearly chasing her through the front doors. </p><p>“Mika, don’t you think - ” he began to worry from the sidewalk, but she spun in her tracks. Her chest was already tight from his use of half her name. </p><p>“I missed you last night,” she admitted in a hushed hurry. </p><p>His eyes went wide but he didn’t miss a beat.</p><p>“I missed you, too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really debated keeping this chapter for fear that I might totally ruin the laser tag scene. Action is not exactly my wheelhouse (not that I ended up writing that much action or that I have a wheelhouse lmao). But still I had fun and I hope it's an enjoyable chapter. Thanks so much for reading :) I appreciate getting to share.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Half Past Midnight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mikasa drew a deep breath. Nothing about the quiet apartment was unfamiliar. Not the mild light or the sound of Armin’s keys hanging or even the resistance of the door whose panel was beginning to suffer the consequences of the season’s warming weather. She let the uneven extrusions dig into her shoulder blades where she leaned, inexplicably nervous. Armin ran his hand over the hanging fabric that she had been wondering where had gone off to.</p>
<p>“You forgot your jacket here.”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she replied without thinking.</p>
<p>“Don’t be. Besides, I -” His hand fell and he never quite met her eye. “I mean, you can leave whatever you want here. I don’t mind.”</p>
<p>“Ok,” she said so quietly that she doubted he even heard it. </p>
<p>“Do you want anything?”</p>
<p>She shook her head and crossed all four steps to sink into the couch. Where he followed to sit. Where his head sought out her shoulder and he curled against her. She knew he would be asking her if there was anything she wanted to do or watch, so she asked first, heart beating faster. </p>
<p>“What did your boss say?”</p>
<p>His face lifted; he looked nervous. She could not be sure when, but he had shed the habit of hiding behind half smiles when it came to her. </p>
<p>“Oh. He reviewed the submission and is sending it out. He seems confident we’ll get it. It’s not for sure, but… he tends to be right about those sorts of things.”</p>
<p>“He couldn’t wait until Monday to tell you that?”</p>
<p>Armin smiled. </p>
<p>“And he said he was calling to thank me. Although I could’ve waited until Monday to hear it, to be honest.”</p>
<p>Alarm bells chimed but she thought, for once, that she might understand from where they rang. She steadied her voice in spite of it and made herself ask what she needed to know. </p>
<p>“You’ll be working late a lot?”</p>
<p>Armin’s brow knit together. </p>
<p>“Working late?”</p>
<p>“Or weekends,” she suggested as heat she could not swallow climbed her throat. His head was already side to side; his expression, opening.</p>
<p>“Oh, no. No, I doubt it. I don’t know, I mean sometimes I guess if there’s a deadline, but it’s not really...” he trailed off, staring at her. She wondered if he was seeing the tension sliding from her limbs. If he perceived that the cracks from when she talked to Eren were widening, allowing something she hadn’t felt in a long time to stream out. </p>
<p>“It started like that, I think. My ex, he was always working. Except not working, I guess.”</p>
<p>She took a deeper breath and found the words she had been searching for all day.</p>
<p>“I believed you - that you were working. But when you told me, it felt like… I felt like I was standing in the same place all over again.”</p>
<p>As she heard herself, something hot dragged through her nose and pulsed up to her cheeks. She tried to push it back like she always could. </p>
<p>“And it was a lot to -” </p>
<p>Her voice pitched at the last minute and she looked away, a hand flying up to shield her face. She would have sat there like that, frozen and watery, but his touch came like a feather of a question over her forearm and she fell into him at the suggestion of it. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” </p>
<p>It sounded foreign, the way his voice ground rough in the back of his throat.</p>
<p><i>For what?</i> she wanted to ask, but all that came instead were slow tears against his neck. A release and relief that had seemed impossibly out of grasp for her until she had closed her grip around it. </p>
<p>Fingers trailed through her hair, down her shoulders, and around until she was encircled by his arms. Weight tipped onto the top of her head where he rested his chin. A funny sound escaped her.</p>
<p>“Are you ok,” he asked, slipping away, too keen to observe. She chuckled again.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she answered, meaning it.</p>
<p>He puzzled as his thumb rubbed over her cheek, only to smear the damp trails further. He pursed his lips and tried again, more successfully, before asking, softer,</p>
<p>“Are you upset?” </p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be working with the same people,” he said, hesitating slightly. Watching her.</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>It was less than ideal, she supposed, and she had meant it when she told him she did not care to hear anything further. Although it was not his past that had crept into her mind all day, but her own. It seemed simpler, though, and she bit back a third laugh. </p>
<p>“But I’m glad you told me. Before, about your… team,” she added. </p>
<p>It would have been perfectly easy for him not to have said a word. Normal even, maybe, although it was difficult to say what was normal. Her skin tingled where his fingers brushed across it before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. </p>
<p>“I couldn’t not tell you.”</p>
<p>Her heart tripped on itself. She let her head rest against him as the syllables formed. It caught on her tongue.</p>
<p>“I - ” </p>
<p>He gave her forehead a tiny nudge. </p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“I love you.”</p>
<p>“You do?” </p>
<p>A smile broke across her lips at the lift in his voice. At the tightening of his arms. Her lips were heavy where she sought his, clumsy in her haste and partly missing the mark. From him came a laugh but she was hardly offended. How could she be, when her heart felt the same? </p>
<p>“I mean,” he stammered, “I love you, too. Sorry, that’s - I -” </p>
<p>She pressed her lips to his again, gently. Slowly. She knew. The weight of it slid from over her and she had never needed to hear it less or wanted to hear it more.</p>
<p>She <i>knew.</i></p>
<p>For how long, she couldn’t say, but it drew up from where it had waited just beneath the surface. Pink rose with it, burning over her whole face where Armin held her. Kissed her. And she ran finger pads up his stomach, his chest, because she wanted to. Because he sighed at the touch. His hands slid beneath her hem, high enough only to find bare skin, speaking his own quiet need. </p>
<p>She found herself caging his lap underneath her. Tilting his head back she let her teeth graze the surface, lips and tongue searching beneath his jawline. His hands stuttered where they traced her sides; fingers, pressed in place as he groaned. Her gasp was quick against his skin when he clung to her hips and dug his thumbs in the way he knew she liked too much. But when she leaned back to shoot him an accusing look, her stomach knotted even worse.</p>
<p>His eyes were shut tight and his mouth barely parted. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back for a kiss that made her forget everything else. Her hands searched for purchase at his shoulders where she could still reach from within his hold. She parted with a shaky breath only to find him chasing and capturing her mouth once more. Her hips rolled without thinking, heat tightening her unsuspecting stomach. He broke with a quiet breath, hands wandering up her sides and across her back.</p>
<p>“Where?” he trailed off.</p>
<p>She sat up with the slightest curve on her lips. </p>
<p>“What,” Armin asked, eyes flicking across her, trying to gather clues and looking rather confused in a way that brought her unexpected satisfaction. She didn’t give him this much pause very often. Hardly at all, even. She climbed from his lap, turning and peeling off the sweater. It was almost embarrassing, really, until his hands drifted up her spine. </p>
<p>“What’s this?” he muttered against the back of her neck. </p>
<p>“A shirt.”</p>
<p>Touch trailed down until she shuddered involuntarily, a chill rushing up her spine to chase it.</p>
<p>“Debatably,” he shot before leaning his head into the nape of her neck. </p>
<p>“You don’t like it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I - ” A breathy laugh washed her shoulders as he paused, having picked up the tease in her voice. “No, it’s - wow, really bad,” he plied sarcastically, “Maybe you should… take it off, then?”</p>
<p>It was off, then.</p>
<p>“How -”</p>
<p>Armin trying desperately to grasp the mechanics of a backless bra was far more entertaining than she could have guessed. A bra which had in fact proven quite tricky through the unexpected game of laser tag but somehow now was worth it. Although, not for the reasons she had originally expected. A quiet laugh pushed its way up her throat. </p>
<p>“Sorry, I - sorry,” Armin tried, but she only smiled wider.</p>
<p>“We can stop,” she teased.</p>
<p>“No,” he mumbled, his hands exploring. </p>
<p>“Are you sure you don’t want to look it up?”</p>
<p>He groaned. She straddled his lap again, removing the bra herself. </p>
<p>“I can wait,” she added with a grin. </p>
<p>Armin slumped, blush high across his cheeks. </p>
<p>“No, I just -”</p>
<p>“I know.”  </p>
<p>She found his mouth again with urgency. The heat of his tongue left her breathless, with a bare moan. Her hands worked at his buttons. Meanwhile, his hands settled loosely over her thighs. He peered up into her face. </p>
<p>“Aren’t you cold at all?”</p>
<p>“No. Are you?”</p>
<p>“Not right now.”</p>
<p>She snuck her hands back beneath his undershirt, palms drifting up. A shudder ran through him and he lurched forward to reclaim her lips. Impatience tugged her suddenly from his lap and towards the bed, and him along with her. A fresh heat flushed her face as she deftly removed his remaining clothes and a nervous chord struck her as he returned the favor. But it lost resonance the moment he held her, turning back to an easy buzz under his weight.</p>
<p>“Armin,” she complained, arching up at the soft pressure of his fingers. </p>
<p>“Sorry. Not the right spot?”</p>
<p>“No, it is, I just - can we just - ?”</p>
<p>He breathed a syllable of understanding, pushing against her so close that she groaned and shifted and his breath hitched in her ear. The sound of ruffling and the weight of him leaning left her aching. She pulled him back close at the first possible moment, knowing she wasn’t making anything easier by preoccupying him with kisses and tugging at his hair. He still managed, lips never far from hers. </p>
<p>She humored the small silence he took, meeting his look from where he hovered, eyes burning into hers. He ducked his head and laid a kiss over her cheek, moving as slow as she could ever remember; whether he was teasing or savoring, she couldn’t say. The sound that vibrated at her neck was low and long and at first she wasn’t sure who it belonged to, but another rolled from Armin as his body pressed flush against hers. She met his movements with her own, something tightening in her and making it impossible not to. The low moan that pressed into the corner of her lips left her on an unexpected edge. His mouth was heavy over hers before she could think. Hands caught her face.</p>
<p>“Armin,” she gasped against his lips, lost in the delightful sea. </p>
<p>“Mikasa,” he returned, breathless.</p>
<p>“Don’t - ”</p>
<p>Her words dragged useless under the pull of a stray moan. He slowed. </p>
<p>“What’s - ”</p>
<p>“Don’t stop,” she breathed, not wanting even the word to leave his lips. <i>Nothing</i> was wrong. </p>
<p>His hands slipped down her, down to her collarbones then over her waist. He was collapsing over her, arms sliding around her and holding her in place, searching deeper with each roll of his hips. Deeper, until she was suspended in that place before color. She dug fingers into his skin and muffled a cry in the dip of his shoulder. His face pushed into her cheek. He choked on her name, arms tightening across her back and she moaned at how he held her. <i>Wanted</i> her. She dragged her nails down his back the way she knew he liked. The noise that tore from his throat washed hot through her. </p>
<p>“I - ” he gasped, only to make her unravel at the sound. Her lips parted and she clung to him, muscles freezing.</p>
<p>Bursting. Leaving her weightless and radiating. He stifled a low groan in her neck, stilling. They both sank, loose and warm; coming apart and back again, the structure of his chest supporting her head while they both searched for air. His hand reached her thigh, but she captured his fingers in her own.</p>
<p>“I finished.”  </p>
<p>She relished the pleasant surprise in his small ‘oh.’ He squeezed her fingers back. The rise and fall of his chest was a steady tide, lulling her close to what might’ve been sleep if not for his interruption. </p>
<p>“I need a shower.”</p>
<p>But she didn’t let go. </p>
<p>“Mika.” </p>
<p>It was hardly new, her reluctance to move. Even though they both would have to anyway, but she wasn’t done with the rhythm of his heart beat or the arm around her shoulders. Nor did he make any true attempt to leave. Instead, he pushed a kiss into her hair and sighed. </p>
<p>“Are you going to shower?”</p>
<p>“No. I showered earlier.”</p>
<p>“Before we went out?”</p>
<p>“Mm, yeah. I went to the gym.”</p>
<p>“Really? Aren’t you tired?”</p>
<p>“I am, actually,” she mumbled. “But anyways, I’ll shower after my run.”</p>
<p>“You’re still going in the morning?”</p>
<p>“Sure, why not?”</p>
<p>“Why not,” Armin echoed, his smile audible. He unwound from her and she let him, pushing herself to a sleepy sit and debating deeply whether dental hygiene was worth leaving the comforter. </p>
<p>“Here,” he offered.</p>
<p>A familiar pair of her own panties was being held out to her, though not the ones he had taken off her earlier. When had she left those? Still, she shimmied them on before padding after him. The steam of the bathroom was sticky on her skin as she pulled the largest shirt from his closet over her head. His voice floated over the curtain and rod with the beginnings of a question that morphed right into a yawn. </p>
<p>“Long day,” she asked, knowing full well that it must have been.</p>
<p>“Um, I don’t know. Early, more than anything. Ymir was kinda grumpy.”</p>
<p>“Early?”</p>
<p>“Well… We started early. So we don’t have anything left tomorrow, either, which is great. I mean - ” His head poked out from the curtain suddenly, cheeks flushed and hair plastered down. “ - I was thinking we could have breakfast?”</p>
<p>“When did you start?”</p>
<p>He disappeared, pause drawing out long enough that Mikasa was about to repeat the question. </p>
<p>“Five.”</p>
<p>Floss hung loose between her fingers. She gaped.</p>
<p>“Ymir agreed to that? What about everyone else?”</p>
<p>Another pause. </p>
<p>“She and Historia had plans tomorrow. Now they don’t have to cancel.”</p>
<p>“And the rest of your group?”</p>
<p>“Reiner and Annie,” Armin stumbled a bit, “Oh, well, we had to get enough that they could even start. It’s more presentation and stuff. They’re a different department. Eren’s old department, actually.”</p>
<p><i>They barely even work together, then,</i> she realized before committing the name to memory. For reference only, of course. </p>
<p>“I don’t know, it’s hard to say how long they were there. They were still working when we left as far as I know. But they must’ve finished, if Erwin was calling in the first place. But - ”</p>
<p>The water cut off. She held a towel out and was met with a grateful smile. </p>
<p>“Thanks,” he said softly. “So, breakfast?”</p>
<p>“I’d like that.”</p>
<p>“Yeah? Are you ready?”</p>
<p>She hummed her affirmation and beat him back to bed. A hand crept over her hip as he curled into her. The heat of his skin pressed into her back. She felt his breath over her neck and his lips pressing soft over the stray hairs there. It struck her, then. </p>
<p>What had she been doing all that time, complacent to share a life with someone whose attention she had competed for since she could remember? Could she have saved herself so much… well, so <i>much?</i></p>
<p>Or maybe - If she could go back, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe one begot the other. Maybe -</p>
<p>“You should dance more often.”</p>
<p>Her cheeks ignited hot, train of thought derailing. His laugh puffed small hairs from the back of her neck. She bit her lip and uselessly willed the heat to leave her skin. </p>
<p>“You’re making fun of me.”</p>
<p>“I’m not. It was cute.”</p>
<p>She was mad at the melting feeling. At her own body that betrayed her, sinking heavy against him. </p>
<p>“You’re cute,” she whispered, only making her own blush worse. He tucked his face back into her neck at that, arm tightening around her waist. </p>
<p>However, sleep took him fast, leaving her to slip from his slack arm and leg that grew so heavy over hers. Still, as she found an easy position, her fingers ventured across the sheets until she found his palm, warm and open. It was then that she closed her eyes and drifted mindlessly on a repeat track of his words until sleep came for her, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for the patience with my delay on posting! I do hope you enjoy. </p>
<p>And thank you so much <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbystoutpenguin">chubbystoutpenguin</a> for beta'ing this chapter </p>
<p>😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Forward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Second cup of coffee in hand, Mikasa scanned the contract a third time. Then, resisted waking Armin for a second opinion a third time, too. </p>
<p>No. She could read. Right? Well - </p>
<p>She hit send, too tired of the second guessing. At least if it was a mistake then it was her own mistake to make. A ruffle of covers sounded as Armin surfaced with a groggy ‘morning’ and shoving his hair back. It had made progress of its own, ends slowly crawling further down his neck and she wondered how far he meant for it to get. Not that she minded the extra locks she had to run her fingers through. </p>
<p><i>So soft. </i> </p>
<p>“Don’t you ever sleep in?”</p>
<p>“I was in bed until eight yesterday.”</p>
<p>“That’s not - ”</p>
<p>A yawn cut him off but he never finished the sentiment, instead coming to land beside her.</p>
<p>“What’re you doing?”</p>
<p>“I sent that contract.”</p>
<p>“Oh that’s good. What’d Eren say about it yesterday?”</p>
<p>“He thinks it will make me more marketable.”</p>
<p>Armin hummed, head falling back. </p>
<p>“He’s probably right.”</p>
<p>She pursed her lips. Probably. He was frustratingly good at gauging such things, she had come to find. All it had taken was all of her will power not to walk out on his smug face when she had approached him about maybe, possibly, resuming his efforts on her behalf. Although, she would be lying if she said she wasn't impressed at the results. In little less than a month her website traffic was ticking back up. Her heart still pounded at the thought of leaving the gallery, but between freelance and the new contract... </p>
<p>It was only one limited-term deal with a publisher, but it was hers. Her risk to take. She nearly smiled, except for Armin's question that promptly reminded her what was on their plate for the day.</p>
<p>“Are Sasha and Connie still coming today?” </p>
<p>“Sasha is. I don’t know about Connie. They’ve been… weird. Ever since - ” Since? Mikasa paused, mulling. “You remember when we went to laser tag?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. It’s been weird at the house since then.”</p>
<p>“When do you want to leave,” he asked with a dryness she wasn’t used to hearing from him.</p>
<p>“Whenever you’re ready.”</p>
<p>Armin scoffed and he didn't have to say the words for her to know there was no being ready. She took his hand and gave his palm a push. </p>
<p>“Let me just get some coffee,” he muttered.</p><hr/>
<p>Mikasa and Sasha had done their best to remain efficient, but were enormously failing at the large canvas before them. </p>
<p>“He should go for a gallery.”</p>
<p>“They’ve been in one before, he said. She used to show them. I think… he doesn’t want to part with any, though.” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Sasha agreed halfheartedly, attention already drawing back to the painting. “And the way it - ”</p>
<p>“Is something wrong?” </p>
<p>Armin had snuck up on them, glancing furtively between them and the work, eyes never making solid contact. </p>
<p>“No,” Mikasa assured.</p>
<p>She offered him a smile, pencil filling in the canvas size they had taken shortly before. Sasha had printed sheets for them, categorized and all. After all, she was particularly adept at cataloguing her own paintings in heaps at a time, after months of procrastination. Armin’s mother though, so far, was the only person Mikasa had ever seen surpass Sasha’s proclivity for putting off filing efforts.</p>
<p>They could have easily spent the day there - or maybe two - just looking. She had suggested it to Armin, even, that she and Sasha could take care of it. But he insisted. He had to be there, he had said to her. And she understood why he needed to be there, but part of her wished he would have let them take care of it. </p>
<p>The day had worn on and it showed on his face. How could it not? Every wall was stacked with visceral evidence of life, bright and colorful and practically yelling personality. Mikasa could feel it radiating off each brushstroke and she wondered what Armin felt when he looked into the canvases. </p>
<p>Armin gave her the slightest attempt at a smile and blinked. Too much. She tugged at Sasha’s sleeve.</p>
<p>“Do you want lunch?”</p>
<p>“God, you read my mind.”</p>
<p>Mikasa couldn’t tell if Sasha had caught on or genuinely meant it, but she was grateful all the same. </p>
<p>“Armin?”</p>
<p>“Not really,” he mumbled. As she had expected. </p>
<p>“Ok. We’ll be back, ok?”</p>
<p>Her hand found his arm and she could almost have imagined the ‘thanks’ that slipped from his lips. It was so quiet. </p>
<p>Sasha at least waited two unit doors away before asking.</p>
<p>“Is he ok?”</p>
<p>“I think so.”</p>
<p>“Should we be leaving?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, just…  we’ll give him some time.”</p>
<p>“We’re still getting food though, right?”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t until they pulled out the flimsy diner chairs that Sasha brought up their missing volunteer. </p>
<p>“Connie’s been weird lately. Right?”</p>
<p>Mikasa spared an eyebrow to raise. She had not been exaggerating when she told Armin that <i>both</i> of her friends were being odd. If anything, in fact, she had downplayed it. </p>
<p>“What? No, not that look, Mika. C’mon.”</p>
<p>She kept still and waited as Sasha squirmed, near to bursting.</p>
<p>“It’s just things have been different,” Sasha let out. “We, um. Look so the thing is, I didn’t tell you - and I’m sorry - but we kind of might have done something.”</p>
<p>Mikasa folded her hands neatly over the paper menu. </p>
<p>“When you got back from your program?”</p>
<p>“No. Or, yes, but before, too. Wait, do you know something?”</p>
<p>“Before?”</p>
<p>“Uh. Yeah. But wait, why did you say when I got back?”</p>
<p>Sasha’s face was approaching a rich shade of blush. </p>
<p>“You’ve been avoiding each other,” Mikasa summed up, avoiding things like how she kept catching Connie staring at Sasha. Or the lengths they both seemed to go to never make contact as of late. </p>
<p>“Oh… Ah. Well - Mikasa, do you think… what… What do you think about Connie? And me, I mean.”</p>
<p>Mikasa raised both brows at that. </p>
<p>“What exactly did you two <i>do?”</i></p>
<p>“I - it was just such a big night and it - I don’t know, something was different. He was in my room after the opening - ”</p>
<p>“Your show?”</p>
<p>Sasha nodded slowly.</p>
<p>“ - I kissed him. And…”</p>
<p>
  <i>And?</i>
</p>
<p>“Look, we didn’t mean - I don’t know, we were supposed to just stay friends. But now we’re not just friends and we did it again and I don’t know what to do.”</p>
<p><i>Did what?</i> Mikasa desperately wanted to ask, but instead settled for her own guesses, chewed her lip, and dug up a piece of old advice. </p>
<p>“What do you want to do?”</p><hr/>
<p>Mikasa hung onto the frame of the door, watching. Even for her, the day felt long. She wished Sasha’s news - well, hinting at news, rather - had come at a lighter time. </p>
<p>Armin had his chin in his knees, arms caging his legs. He had not noticed her yet. She had stood long enough, though, and was wary to intrude any longer without his consent. </p>
<p>“Hey,” she called softly from the door. The turn of his head was slow. The rim of his eyes, surprisingly clear. He smiled sideways as his head leaned into his forearm. </p>
<p>“Hey.”</p>
<p>He watched her approach. </p>
<p>“Sasha went home,” she said.</p>
<p>He hummed.</p>
<p>“How are you,” she asked.</p>
<p>He hummed again. Her heart reached, but she remained still. Careful. </p>
<p>“Mad,” he offered. </p>
<p>She hadn’t expected an answer, much less that one, but treasured the fact that he had given her one. Unprompted, he gifted her another. </p>
<p>“It’s just - It’s so cliche, but it’s not fair.”</p>
<p>His foot slipped. His knee sank. And just like that, his position unfolded as he pushed himself to standing. </p>
<p>“I just don’t know what to do. How not to be mad. Or at least put it somewhere. I don’t know, I’m probably not making any sense.”</p>
<p>His grin was rueful and his hands landed at his hips as he stretched. But Mikasa thought he made perfect sense.</p><hr/>
<p>“Make sure you follow through.”</p>
<p>Armin gave a half-hearted jab. </p>
<p>“Like - I don’t know - ”</p>
<p>“No, like this.”</p>
<p>She gripped at his arm and shoulder, moving him through the motion, slowly. Her hip corrected his and she shoved his foot into place. He gave a little huff of surprise. </p>
<p>“See? That’s good,” she murmured in his ear. </p>
<p>“Excuse me?”</p>
<p>They both turned to the sound. She recognized the face, not by name but she saw them regularly, their gym schedule seemingly aligned. </p>
<p>“Sorry, but do you think you’ll be done soon?”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Mikasa straightened, her hands falling from Armin, “Sure.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mean to rush you. Whenever you’re done is ok.”</p>
<p>“No, we’ll use the pads. It’s ok.”</p>
<p>Mikasa led Armin away with a nudge. </p>
<p>“What do you mean pads,” he asked in a hushed tone. </p>
<p>But he found out soon enough, hands half raised in Mikasa’s own gloves. Hesitance played across his face. </p>
<p>“Are you sure?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” she said, “Try the kick.”</p>
<p>“O-ok,” he stammered. She was pleased to at least see him sink into the position she had shown him. </p>
<p>Mikasa deflected his shin with no sound, save the thump as he connected with the pad. </p>
<p>“Again,” she instructed. If she could get him to keep going, she was sure they could find a flow. </p>
<p>He complied with more force and she held back a grin. She would even call it fun, if she didn’t think about what they were doing there. Maybe he would come back with her on a better day, she hoped quietly. </p>
<p>“Is this what you do,” he asked, “When you’re upset?”</p>
<p>Overly perceptive. Per usual, she supposed. </p>
<p>“Usually.”</p>
<p>He gave her a little ‘huh,’ breathing as if loaded with more to say. To notice. She pulled up her arms, pads out. </p>
<p>“Again,” she demanded. </p>
<p>What looked like surprise crossed his features. She wondered if she had been too forceful, but he resumed the position before giving her another kick. She allowed the corners of her lips to creep up as she volleyed more, followed by combinations of her own instruction. By the end of little over half an hour, sweat was a new tone on his clothes.  </p>
<p>“This is… hard,” he gasped after what she thought was a particularly good combination. “Weak, huh?”</p>
<p>He looked up, gloves pressed into his knees as he recovered air. She frowned. </p>
<p>“You’re not weak,” she said, flat, plain, and simple. “But I guess if you feel so bad about it, you could do another set.”</p>
<p>She held the pads up, but not enough to hide the grin on her face. His laugh was a fresh wash over her sticky skin. He sank to the floor and yanked off the gloves. </p>
<p>“Right. Ok, sorry.” He put on the realest smile she had seen all day. “But it’s… Kinda fun, actually. Even if I’m not that good.”</p>
<p>“No one is good at first.”</p>
<p>She never had been very talented at sugar coating. Neither was she one to discount merit. </p>
<p>“But you did really well,” she added. </p>
<p>“Oh. Thank you… It does make you feel better.” came his quieter follow up. A swell rose in her chest and a blush in her cheeks. </p>
<p>“Good. Are you hungry, yet?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, “Do you maybe want to order something in?”</p>
<p>Mikasa could hardly think of a better night.</p>
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